


Wild Hunt

by Cupcakemolotov



Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Fae, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Blood Drinking, Blood Sharing, Blood and Gore, Blood and Injury, Canon-Typical Violence, Chair Sex, Compulsion, F/M, Fae & Fairies, Fae Caroline Forbes, Fae Magic, Fae!Caroline, Fluff and Smut, Hybrid Klaus Mikaelson, Implied/Referenced Torture, Magic, Mild Gore, Minor Character Death, Oral Sex, Psychological Torture, Suggested bondage, Table Sex, Werewolf Mates, hybrid!Klaus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-06
Updated: 2021-01-20
Packaged: 2021-03-17 08:48:10
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 31,371
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28597203
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Cupcakemolotov/pseuds/Cupcakemolotov
Summary: Killing Tyler Lockwood starts a chain of events that put Caroline exactly where she's always dreaded and longed to be: in the arms of Klaus Mikaelson.
Relationships: Caroline Forbes/Klaus Mikaelson
Comments: 53
Kudos: 324





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [melsbels](https://archiveofourown.org/users/melsbels/gifts).



> I think I promised Melissa a Klaroline Fae fic years ago. This one has been in the works for a while, let's not talk dates, but 2020 definitely slowed production down. I promise, the second half will not sit languishing in my WIP for too long! The biggest, most heartfelt thank you to Kiry, who has been both a cheerleader and a kick in the pants as needed to get this thing on track to being finished. Kiry doesn't sleep, but I can't complain too much, since they have kindly listened to me complain until the wee hours of the morning. 
> 
> A couple of notes to avoid confusion:
> 
> Fae: A word used in this fic to generally reference a type of European mythological beings.  
> Sean O'Connell: Cami O'Connell's Twin.

Hand pressed tightly against her side, Caroline took several careful breaths, her lungs burning and her pulse a steady thump in her ears. Her senses were hyper alert, magic straining to catch the faintest hint of a disturbance. All around her, humans slept soft and cozy in their beds, and the night had gone quite. As the silence continued to hold, she allowed herself to relax, letting the cold of the concrete at her spine cool her flushed and fever warm skin. For the moment, she was safe.

Reaching up, she rubbed her breastbone, lips curling into a small, pleased smile at the burn. Her father was angry. If she survived the night, that alone would make the pain of her injury worth it. Thankfully, the knife wound felt like it had finally stopped seeping, and her glamour would hide the blood. It was the iron poison that was going to cause her complications. The black spider web crawling up the line of her ribcage hadn’t made it close to her heart, she was her mother’s daughter too, but it weakened her all the same.

It left her in a magical disadvantage.

Grimacing as her phone buzzed silently in her pocket, she pressed a little further into the concrete behind her and looked around. There was nothing to suggest her cousins had been able to track her, though that was just a matter of time. Thankfully, even suffering from iron, she had enough control of her magic to hide the glow from her phone, though she didn’t quite dare to risk more.

Not yet.

Pulling it free from her pocket, she winced at the number of missed calls and quickly scanned the texts that had accumulated.

Bonnie (12:45 AM): _Hello???_

Bonnie (12:46 AM): _You’re not dead._

Bonnie (12:46): _Are you ignoring me?_

Bonnie (1:10 AM): _I_ _swear, I’ll put Enzo on a plane. With the time differences, he’ll be there before dawn._

Bonnie (1:10 AM): _Then you’ll have to listen to him complain about airplane food while he tries to kill people._

Bonnie (1:11 AM): _I might do it anyway. I could use the alone time._

Wincing, because Bonnie Bennett did not bluff, she hurriedly tapped out a response.

Caroline (1:11 AM): _I’m alive._

Bonnie (1:11 AM): _What happened?_

Caroline (1:11 AM): _It was a trap._

Bonnie (1:11 AM): _How bad?_

Caroline: (1:12 AM): _I’ve mostly stopped bleeding and Tyler is dead._

Very dead. She’d made sure of it. There was a lot someone like her father would do with a dead body, so she’d made a point to separate his head from his body so he couldn’t be resurrected. Baba Yaga spells were rare and costly, but if anyone could get their hands on one, it would be her father. It was why she’d then dumped her stash of holy water on the body and then carefully dusted him in iron shavings, rendering his body and his blood unusable.

The little dots below her conversation on her messenger app popped up and died several times, and Caroline closed her eyes, letting her head fall back as she waited for Bonnie’s response. She’d know that coming to Chicago was a risk, for a number of reasons, but even at her most pessimistic she wasn’t sure she could have guessed just what she’d find here.

What could possibly have led Tyler to be so desperate that he would trust her _father_? Tyler, who was one of the few people who knew the truth of her origin, who had hugged her when she’d said goodbye and told her he would always care about her. Tyler, whose blood she now wore beneath her nails, who had stabbed her with an iron knife and who had died with hate in eyes.

Her phone buzzed and she glanced down.

Bonnie (1:13 AM): _Klaus is in Chicago._

Caroline stared at her phone, surprise and a shot of adrenaline leaving her momentarily breathless. Klaus. Here. In Chicago. The city where Bill had set up his most recent plots, where Tyler had attempted to betray everything that had once made him a good man. Sliding her teeth along her lip, she very carefully typed her reply, her fingers shaking.

Caroline (1:14 AM): _You said he was in London for the next month. What changed?_

Bonnie (1:15AM): _I don’t know._

Bonnie (1:16 AM): _Do you need an exit?_

Bonnie (1:16 AM): _He owes me._

Caroline was shaking her head even before she started typing. Being anywhere near Klaus was a terrible idea, and Bonnie knew that. That her friend would never make the offer unless she thought it necessary left dread sitting low in her stomach.

Caroline (1:16 AM): _What’s got you spooked?_

Bonnie (1:17 AM): _Someone is blocking my scrying spells._

Caroline (1:17 AM): _Bill?_

Bonnie (1:17 AM): _If we’re lucky. We both know what it means if we’re not._

Caroline’s fingers tightened on her phone case, her pulse loud in her ears. Bonnie was right. Very, very few things blocked her from seeing what she wanted to see. Bill could do it thanks to the blood bind but it wasn’t easy, and he never managed it for long periods of time. Grams probably could have done it. But the list of powerful witches who remained alive in the United States after the purging of New Orleans was short.

There was only one reason Bill would use the blood connection between them to block out any outside magic from interfering tonight. She hadn’t just pissed her father off, she’d actively disrupted his plans, and thanks to Bonnie’s magical brilliance, he couldn’t track her easily. But there was another way to drag her to a Fairy Court, and she would have to move very quickly to avoid it.

Baring her teeth in a mimicry of a smile, she gave herself a moment to feel a sharp burst of satisfaction. She had a list on her phone of her father’s potential means of retaliation, and Wild Hunt was right there at the top as the worst possible outcome, but it also meant Tyler must have been far more integral to his plans than she’d guessed. Even knowing that her chances of survival had just taken a serious dip, it did little to dim her pleasure. If she was very, _very_ lucky her father’s precious Queen would feel the need to take out his failure on him directly.

A girl could hope.If she survived the night, she was going to find a fancy bottle of wine and pick up a cupcake. Maybe two cupcakes. She _deserved_ the mini-celebration.

Caroline (1:20AM): _I spotted half a dozen of my cousins tonight. I don’t know who holds their allegiance but it probably won’t matter. If Bill is super pissed, he’ll call them all._

Bonnie (1:21 AM): _Fuck._

Bonnie (1:21 AM): _If it goes bad, don’t be an idiot. Use Klaus._

Caroline (1:21 AM): _No._

Caroline (1:22 AM): _Favor or not, I killed his hybrid. He doesn’t strike me as forgiving._

Bonnie (1:22 AM): _He’s not._

Bonnie (1:23 AM): _You don’t have to tell him._

Caroline (1:23 AM): _Uh huh. I’ll call you when I’m safe. 🤦_ 😘❤️🏃

Shoving her phone back into her pocket, Caroline exhaled slowly at the bite that was her warning that her magic was nearly tapped dry. Giving herself another half-a-dozen heart beats to celebrate her first major victory, she turned her mind to her problem at hand.

Bonnie had good reason to be worried. It had been almost thirty years since the Queens had summoned a wild hunt to drag one of the half-Fae home for punishment. Bill had made a point to tell her in great details the torture that had awaited her cousin, the way the Queen had plucked his body and his mind apart for his treachery.

Caroline doubted she had become enough of a problem that the Queens would send the hunt, which meant that Bill would be expending a great deal of power to collect her. Her lips twisted, finger tapping silently against the side of her phone. Fae magic was powerful, and so was her father, but it could be circumvented. She needed to concentrate on that, put together her plan.

Pissing her father off twice in one night would normally be her highest priority, but instead what she wanted to think about was the message Bonnie had given her.

_Klaus Mikaelson was in Chicago._

Anticipation was a tantalizing thrill in her veins. She’d hoped the truth of New Orleans would have helped her grow out of her strange obsession. Instead, it left her wanting to know more. It was a struggle, when all she had to do was text Bonnie and ask for a location. She could then finally indulge in the bone deep curiosity that had been part of her life for as long as she could remember. Maybe figure out the _cause_ of her obsession with a monster she’d never met.

She might’ve, if only doing so tonight wouldn’t put everyone she cared about in danger.

Caroline slid her lip between her teeth, letting the small hurt ground her. If she thought her father hated her enough to call down a Wild Hunt _now_ , exposing the Fae’s secrets to Klaus would make his rage burn even more bitterly. She’d honestly have done it years ago out of spite if such a move would only put her in the crosshairs of the courts, but it wouldn’t.

Bonnie and Enzo would also be marked.

The High Courts currently considered her rebellion to be a family matter, though one Bill was unable to control adequately. She could not risk a Queen deciding she was her enemy in truth, not yet. Not when she was so close to figuring out how to banish her father permanently to the otherside of the Veil.

She’d be thrilled to just killing him, but she long since accepted that might not be possible. Tyler had been right, when he’d called her a monster. When he’d called all of them monsters. He just hadn’t understood that for all of the terrible things in this world that there were worse fate’s hidden behind the veil in between the worlds, horrors lovingly encouraged in Underhill that could break a human mind merely with their existence.

Earth had pushed the Fae back with their iron and religion all those years ago, had sealed the veil with witch magic, and humanity considered themselves victorious. But the truth was all they had done was defer the fight for the territory the Fae claimed as theirs to own to a different day.

The Fae hadn’t forgotten humanity nor had they forgiven them for their defeat. Banished behind magic, the Fae watched and watched and hungered. They had waited for the time that they had truly passed into myth, until the world forgot how to defeat them with a dangerous patience. But the nature of the Fae was as capricious as it was violent, and not all agreed on waiting.

Some had altered their plans and plotted a different course of action.

The Great Experiment.

Caroline supposed she should be grateful for that impatience, it was the reason for her existence, but all she could muster just then was a familiar anger. For six hundred years, members of the High Courts had mingled their blood among humans, hoping to breed children with resistance to both iron and the religion, the tools that had locked them away from the world that had once been theirs. And their plan _had_ produced some success, though not always how they had hoped.

She was one such success.

Elizabeth Forbes had never been comfortable with her half-Fae child, but she’d also refused to abandon her to a world filled with monsters. Instead, she’d taught her daughter the good and the bad of humanity, had shown her the world as it was and what it could be. Her father saw her as a tool, a means to an end. Her mother’s love had been gruff and uneasy, but she’d tried.

She would never, ever forget that.

Or forgive Bill for her death.

Caroline had defied her father and his magic, had pitted herself against his will as she vowed vengeance for killing the one thing she’d ever claimed as her own. Her mother.

Hunting Bill required care and a meticulous eye for detail, and a particular stubbornness she had in spades. His magic was more powerful than hers, but he had always underestimated his only child by Liz, brushed her off as not powerful or clever enough for his schemes. It’s been a deliberate decision of hers to hide what she was capable of, hoping that such a ploy would save her mother. Now, she used her magic against him with the same ruthlessness he had taught her as a child.

But she was just one half-breed among hundreds, and so she’d learned to be careful. She wasn’t even the most powerful of those born on this side of the veil and underhanded ambush tactics had always served her better than brute force. A disruption there, a few dozen murder’s here. Just enough to skew her father’s chessboard while she worked to uncover the truth of his plotting. The fewer of her cousins who were able to carry out the will of her father and his fellow full blooded Fae’s plots, the safer humanity was from a terrible strike.

But she couldn’t kill them all, though she’d certainly tried. Her family did not die easily, and magic lingered in places of terrible violence like fingerprints. Each kill was a risk that could lead to her death. Over the years, it’s become clear that if she wanted to destroy her fathers plots, she couldn’t do it alone. The tie that connected them, the thread that burned so clearly now in her chest with her father’s rage, meant that she’d never be truly safe from him. Blood ties were not easily broken.

But Caroline knew witches, so she’d returned home, to the place where the only people she trusted still lived. Tyler had already been gone by then, lost in his need for vengeance, but Bonnie had been there, lingering in the ashes of conquest almost as if she’d been waiting.

It was then that Caroline had learned that humanity's greatest monster had become its potential savior. That the true potential of Ester’s terrible offspring had finally been unlocked. Klaus Mikaelson had broken his curse.

Her fingers curled into her palms, the strange, bone-deep curiosity that ground her joints together every time she thought of his name a familiar sensation. Klaus had broken his strange Sun and Moon curse in the forest she knew so well, had cut a bloody path through everyone who tried to oppose him, and laid the foundations for the army of hybrids he was determined to build. His perfect army that feared neither sun nor death and were unnaturally loyal.

Hybrids that Bonnie had helped create.

Her best friend rarely spoke of the events that led to the creation of the hybrids, refusing to give Caroline even the smallest detail of how a hybrid was made. Even tucked away in her home in Maine twenty years later, hidden by both Fae and witch magic. Caroline might not have the _hows_ involved, but she knew the _whys_.

It all circled back to Bill.

Liz hadn’t been the only causality of her father’s hunger for power, just the first in their small town. Murdering Sheila Bennett had been a mistake in that it had set Bonnie against Bill, but it fit the pattern Caroline was starting to see in her father’s plans. Liz had been human, but one whose family had been deeply entrenched in the supernatural for generations. Sheila Bennett had been powerful, but she’d been born of the witch line that had created the Otherside. Gram’s had made sure her death had cost Bill, but it hadn’t been enough to stop his plans as Tyler’s presence tonight had proven.

Sometimes, Caroline wondered why Bonnie didn’t hate her. Bill was a scourge that returned time and time again, because her blood allowed it. Maybe if she’d been stronger they’d have been able to protect their families. But what she couldn’t protect, she could avenge.

Bonnie had agreed to help. Had been working on her own plans for years. The first real foothold into Bill’s master plan had been with the Augustine Society. Bonnie had been watching them for months before Caroline’s return, humans who had relentlessly experimented on vampires. They’d staged a rescue for the vampire that had been imprisoned, and it had been Enzo who had known of Tyler.

Tyler who had been the first of Klaus’ successful hybrids, whose loyalty was a shaky thing despite whatever magic bound him to his maker. Her childhood sweetheart who yearned for freedom from the yolk he had chosen. It’d taken months to go through the society’s notes they’d managed to save, to dig into the texts they had been experimenting with.

They’d known so much but understood so little.

But one thing had become crystal clear.

Bill was trying to bring down the Veil. Not unexpected, as most of the Fae worked to destroy it. But Bill also worked to understand what had led to the banishment of the Fae, so he could break it better.

It had been humans, werewolves and witches who had originally created the veil, blocking the Fae Lords from returning in great numbers after their banishment, forcing them to squeeze through cracks when the veil between worlds was thin or use now defunct gates. When iron had slowly lost its grip on the world, they might have managed more but for Qetsiyah.

Bonnie’s ancestor had been clever. When she’d bound the otherside, trapping Amara in stone and Silas forever out of her reach, she’d sunk the power of those souls into the Veil between humanity and the Fae, creating a second anchor. An additional failsafe to guarantee that no Supernatural would be so foolish as to undo her work.

Witch. Vampire. Werewolf. _Hybrid_. When they died, they were shuffled into Qetsiyah’s chosen afterlife, and their souls protected humanity. Humans were spared that fate, but their very existence acted a detriment to the Fae, as it was humanity who embraced iron.

The fastest way to destroy the Veil would be to free Silas. For a while, she and Bonnie had worried that he would succeed. But no one knew where Qetsiyah had hidden Silas’ body, and for all of her father’s attempts to restart Silas’ little cult, he’d always failed. The last real surge in members had ended when they’d been slaughtered, setting her father back decades.

The only other way to destroy what Qetsiyah had put into place would be to destroy the Veil at the root. And while no one understood the magic that had cast out the Fae so many years ago, her father didn’t need to understand the magic of the Veil to break it. He just needed dominion over it. But that was no easy task. Humans and witches could be bribed or fooled. Werewolves hovered at the brink of extinction. But the children of Esther, the hybrids that now walked the earth, defied every master but one. And so her father gathered his pieces and worked to subjugate Klaus’ creations in secret.

Caroline had tried to save Tyler.

She’d tried to talk him out of the part that Bill needed him to play. He’d refused. And the betrayal had burned like acid in her gut.

It had been Tyler, who had helped her dig Elizabeth Forbes’ grave. Her friend who had given her his gloves when her palms started to bleed, had said nothing when her tears had made her clumsy. It had been Tyler who sat with her and Bonnie, listening as Grams told them of the dangers in the world after Caroline had announced she was leaving. But her friend had died long before Caroline had killed him.

She shivered in the wind.

She knew Klaus played his part in that. It was impossible not to. It had been because of Tyler that she’d ended up in New Orleans, after all. The whispers of the destruction of the city, of how entire witch lines had been lost to madness and death had not adequately captured the horror of it. She’d _seen_ what Klaus had left behind: werewolf packs left in ruin, the survivors turned and bound to his will. Broken witches and terror ridden vampires.

But _rarely_ death. Klaus was not so kind to let his true enemies escape him in such a way. Instead, his wake left behind living ghosts. At least in this, she had done her best by her old friend. Whatever had driven him, whatever horror he had witnessed that had turned him so fully against her, she hoped he could find peace from it now.

She wasn’t so sure she’d be so lucky. Klaus was a spector in her life that she didn’t know if she could escape. And tonight, she’d killed his first hybrid. She grimaced. Klaus would not take to that news kindly. Best if she was long gone when he learned of it.

She wondered if she could manage it. She already felt the pull in her chest, the need to see, to touch, burning through her. It has always been like this. When Grams had first mentioned his name all those years ago, she’d felt the smallest of pulls, a jolt of curiosity. A tug she couldn’t explain. And everytime she thought his name, every time she heard another whisper of the night terrors he created, the tug to search him out grew stronger.

She’d deliberately chosen to look for those horrors once, hoping the truth of his nature would terrify her into running away. Instead, the monster that she had cultivated since she was seventeen and covered in her mother’s blood had approved. The more she learned, the more she wanted to know.

It was why she’d helped Bonnie disappear. Whatever happened between her and Klaus, she was determined to protect her friends from the fall out of it. But she was not the only Fae who hunted for information about Klaus, and Bonnie Bennet had helped create his hybrids.

Her people would destroy Bonnie, if they learned that truth. That a witch from Qetsiyah’s line had once again worked great magic against them would light the fires of their impotent rage for a long, long time. As long as Klaus and his hybrids roamed the earth, it made their chances of winning a war that much harder.

Fae magic was powerful, but given forced limitations by the rules they had to follow. Klaus and his creations were bound by no such things. And they were swallowing the world.

It had been nearly five years since the first hint of a hybrid returning to the US since New Orleans had raced through the Supernatural community. Over the decades, the US communities had watched from a distance as Klaus had bent Europe to his will, his creations breaking across city after city like a wave, choking out any dissent in their paths.

London, Paris, Milan. They all fell at Klaus’ feet with little more than a whimper.

The first real sign of his return had been when he turned New Orleans into a witches' graveyard, and then his gaze had turned to Chicago. Her father was no fool, he had to have known that Klaus had made this city the seat of his power in the States. Bill was far too cunning to risk catching Klaus’ attention unless he had a plan, and not knowing the exact details of what that plan was worried her.

Though she could guess part of it.

A sharp whistle cut through the air, and Caroline’s gaze cut along the rigid angles and sharply jutting corners of the builders around her, but she maintained her hiding place. She had no intention of being flushed out of cover like a bird they intended to net but she needed to come up with a plan.

Glancing at her watch, she grimaced.

It was nearly two in the morning.

If her father had chosen to call a Wild Hunt, she had roughly sixty minutes until the witching hour of three A.M. struck, and the Hunt was let loose. The blood tie to her father might have eroded to the point that he could no longer use it to force her obedience, but they had never managed to break it entirely. Fae magic was tricky. Blood ties more so. Instead, Bonnie had done her best to cloud it, to thin the connection to a single, potent thread.

A Wild Hunt would cut through the witch magic hiding her and return her to her father. Caroline was certain the only reason Bill hadn’t tried to do such a thing before was because of the cost. Calling a Hunt took a great deal of personal power. She would only have one shot of slipping away, and the risk of being caught by her father’s soldiers was dangerously high.

_Klaus was in Chicago._

Her fingers clenched, and Caroline put her phone away. She wouldn’t risk Bonnie or Enzo by going to Klaus, not yet. Not with Tyler’s blood fresh on her hands. But that didn’t mean she still couldn’t use his presence in the city to her advantage. In a game of half-breeds, it always came down to who was the better gambler.

Supernatural cities always had seedy vampire nightclubs and supernatural friendly bars littered throughout. When Klaus had taken over Chicago, he had commandeered several for his own use. But there was one club in particular that she’d pinned down as potentially being part of his stomping grounds; the number of bodies that were secretly removed from the club gave credence to her theory, though she supposed it could just be a place that attracted excess stupidity.

If she was going to have a chance tonight, she needed to go into that club and stay just long enough to let the scent of mingling supernaturals hide her trail so she could slip away undetected and find a place she could hide from the magic seeking her. If she was lucky, Klaus’ potential presence would act as a deterrent.

It was a risk.

Not only because she needed to keep her own blood-lust in check, but because she had never before let herself venture close enough to Klaus to risk catching a single glimpse of him. She was magically exhausted and wounded, the slow crawl of thirst thick in her throat, and her bones ached with the insistent need that made no logical sense.

She would have to be so very careful. Still, for now, her glamour was holding. Setting her teeth, Caroline turned and headed to the heartbeat of the city. Tonight, she’d find a way to live and tomorrow she’d call Bonnie and they’d work out a plan for her to escape. And she’d have to do it without indulging in a curiosity that had no name but was a pulse in her blood.

* * *

Klaus stared down at the moshpit of bodies below him, the excellent sound proofing muffling the worst of the noise. Spending his evenings in such places did not particularly appeal to him anymore, the noise blasting through the speakers could hardly be considered music after all, and drunk meals were hardly worth the effort of obtaining. Still, appearances must be kept, and usually letting someone else entertain Kol was worth the price tag his brother undoubtedly ran up.

Tonight, however, Kol was off playing games with his favorite toys at Klaus’ bidding, and he was certain that there would be several coven’s missing members come dawn. Witches always did seem to imagine they could entice Kol with their magics and plots, never realizing that for all his pretty words and smiles, he was as far more likely to snap their necks for failure than even Rebekah. Kol was a cannon you could only point in a direction while hoping the collateral damage would be somewhat contained. Tonight would be a lesson he hoped Chicago was not foolish enough to forget twice.

It was unfortunate that he could not join his brother. A little torture might have taken the edge off his temper. Still, the night had hours yet, and his business was far from concluded. There was always the chance to get his hands dirty.

His next guest should be quite informative.

Stepping away from the one-way glass, Klaus headed back to his table and the bottle of bourbon the waitress had been smart enough to drop off without comment before leaving hurriedly. Pouring the amber liquid over a handful of ice cubes, he considered the information he had received that evening and from _whom_. The importance of each message.

Bonnie Bennet’s text had been brief, and it had followed so closely from the call from a local coven that if he had not known of the Bennett witches distaste for coven politics, he would have wondered if they were working together. He supposed it didn’t matter. The tight jawed anger and flash in his brother’s eyes had told him more than enough.

His brother’s irritation at the slippery Bennett witch’s penchant for disappearing, and his inability to find her, was a petty source of amusement for Klaus. Since she did maintain enough self preservation to respond to his demands, to keep the letter of their agreement, he had not yet thrown his weight behind Kol’s to discover just how she managed it. Disappointment was good for Kol.

If there was any chance the coven was acquainted with Bonnie, Kol would wrangle such information out of them. With torture, if neccessary. While Klaus had learned to tolerate the Bennett witch’s secrecy, he saw no reason to stop Kol from his rampage. As long as he also remembered to gather the information that Klaus had sent to him to find.

And what information it was.

Tyler Lockwood was dead.

His head had been fished from the Lawrence River, and his body still missing. A floating head was no easy thing to spot in a river at night, no human should have managed it, and the witches who had retrieved it were being cagey about just how they’d discovered it. Klaus had no patience for their games, not tonight. If the witches had been smart, they not only would have told him how they had discovered his hybrid’s floating head, but made available the witch who had found it as well as full explanation of what magic was used and how. But they had not. And so Kol would rip them and any of their precious grimoires apart in a search for answers and potential information on the hidden Bennett.

Kol would supply some of the hows, but not the why of how Lockwood ended up dead in Chicago. He would need other sources for that, and while he loathed Tyler’s existence, he was still his first hybrid. Brash and stubborn, Tyler had truly believed that he could not only break the sire bond, but that he could one day kill his sire. Klaus had allowed Tyler to live, content to offer him the same fate as Katerina, destroying his world one slow death at a time. His life existed as an example to his other hybrids of their fate that would await them if they managed to not only defy the compulsions he had layered in their minds, but the sire bond that tied them all so closely to his will.

His wayward hybrid had never quite managed to fully break the bond, though he had tried so _very_ hard to do so. And Klaus had made certain that his every waking moment was a constant battle of wills, that Tyler longed to return to his maker more than anything else in the world. Then, surprisingly, Tyler had managed to disappear in the smoke and ruin of New Orleans. And now, his head had reappeared in Chicago, a city Klaus had cultivated as his base of operations in the US years ago. He had only returned on a whim to quiet the hunting restlessness of his wolf.

A wolf that was now violently insistent that the one thing they had hunted fruitlessly for decades was now here, in _this_ city.

Klaus did not believe in coincidences.

That so many potential threats seemed to be gathering was hardly by chance and not entirely unexpected. And while it would be so very convenient to root out the snake that had been quietly stalking him in the shadows, his wolf had... other priorities. A priority that was more than two decades in the making. One that had started with the shattering of his curse. It had come with a price, and he had carried it since he’d awoken from the ashes of his transformation, elation and triumph melting into a bone deep need that had no answer except one.

A myth, he’d thought. A pretty lie told to encourage the fanciful longings of the human heart that lived instead a monster. Soulmates, werewolf mates, were nothing more than a fairytale. That _he_ could covet and bend and _want_ something beyond the existence of any other? That he would give his devotion to a single, terrible creature?

Impossible.

Laughable.

Utterly, _horrifically_ true.

And she was here, in Chicago.

Lips curling in a humorless smile, he reached for his phone and sent out a series of rapid orders. He had no choice but to acknowledge what instinct was insisting was true, his wolf had never before reacted with such surety. But that such a thing would occur while so many other outside influences were making their first moves on the chessboard they believed he did not know existed, concerned him.

It was possible that someone had discovered his secret, that his mate existed and was not yet within his grasp, and had chosen to try to distract him with the possibility. _That_ would not be tolerated. Anyone in possession of such knowledge would be dealt with swiftly, and anyone they might have spoken to even in passing would face a similar fate as one could not be too cautious with such secrets.

He just had to find who they might be.

Luckily, a great deal could be done with the blood and brain of the dead, and Gloria did not balk at such things. Klaus wanted to know where Tyler had been the past five years, who he had associated with and what he thought he knew of Klaus’ plans. His hybrids knew better than to associate with Tyler, they bent to his will in all things after all. But there was always the possibility of betrayal in other areas, even though New Orleans should have taught them all the lesson of what such betrayal led too.

The horror of it.

At his side, his fingers curled. Chicago was balanced on the edge of his knife. If they had betrayed him in such a way, very little would remain by tomorrow’s dawn. If his mate was indeed in the city...

The soft sound of shoes slowly moving up the stairs told Klaus that his last guest of the evening had finally arrived. Leaning forward, Klaus picked up his tumbler of whiskey and took a careful drink. His impatience left his usually uneven temper volatile, and Sean was not an easily replaced pawn. He needed to remember that.

“You’re late. Did I not impress upon you the importance of a timely summoning?”

“It was unavoidable.”

Klaus turned, his gaze hard. He found he was not in a mood to tolerate even a hint of disrespect. “Was it? I should hope your reasons are far better than your last attempt at an explanation. You may need your tongue and pretty face to lure your kind to you, but as I am sure you are now aware, there are ways to wound that leave very few physical marks and I grow impatient with your lack of respect, Sean.”

The boy grimaced. Sean O'Connell was not a fool, though he rarely gave the proper deference for the monster who could easily snuff out his life or extend it to eternal torment. Klaus had heard it was a family trait, and one that had cost his human sister her life. He wondered if Sean regretted that death. If he wished for just a little more power, if he’d been just a little smarter so his twin would have lived. One day, he’d be sure to ask. However, tonight, there were far more important matters to handle than watching Sean’s emotional scar’s bleed.

For his wayward messenger wasn’t human.

Oh, he appeared human. Pale haired, fair skinned, with the typical, if beautiful, features of his Irish descent. Nothing about him stood out as non-human. Except for that curious allergy to iron. The faint touch of magic that the witches of New Orleans had watched with great interest; magic that wasn’t quite… right. Small, unimportant traits that _could_ have been brushed off as unfortunate genetics. His sister, after all, had been a full human. And while fraternal twins sometimes came out of the womb with different fathers, such a thing was rare even in modern times.

Sean should have been watched to see if his children produced a stronger kind of magic and carefully cultivated by the witch covens of New Orleans, so he would be easier to exploit. And perhaps he would have been, had his sister Camille not made the unfortunate choice to join the human faction trying to wrestle control away from the Supernatural. And once Marcel had decided to enter their little war, any chance of keeping his secrets had disappeared. His son liked to know his enemies. He was suspicious and canny enough to investigate even the smallest of curiosities. By the time Klaus had made an appearance in New Orleans, Sean had been flagged as a potential threat.

His sister's death had not changed that.

And later, Sean had become a curiosity that Marcel had not wanted in the smoking rubble of his city. _A gift_ , Marcel had called him with a dangerous smile as he’d dropped him at Klaus’ feet while he told him _such_ a tale of the boy running from a Parish screaming, skin red and chaffed in the shape of the cross he’d carried. Of his unusual allergy to iron. That curious hint of magic. A bargain, his son had offered. Something _new_ to divert his attention so that those who remained could rebuild without the threat of Klaus’ temper.

Klaus had accepted, with conditions. And while Sean had attempted to keep his secrets, New Orleans had still smelled like smoke from the very fires Klaus had set, and though his anger had not cooled he’d been willing to let it be diverted. His enemies were dead, his allies wary. An entertaining distraction hadn’t been amiss. Sean hadn’t quite seen it that way. But the boy had loved his mother, and there were _such_ choices a man must make when facing a monster. So Sean had woven a fantastic tale of a father who was neither human nor witch but had _magic_. Old magic. A father who was only around when the veil was thin and who grew ill from both iron and religion, whose ears were pointed and canines sharp.

It had been the most entertainment Klaua had experienced outside of dismemberment in _ages_. The boy had a gift for words. In times past, Klaus might even have let him live for such a talent. But New Orleans had sharpened his temper with a slight that would not be easily forgotten, and with Marcel’s clever bargain between them, Sean was the only target for such rage. So he had compelled both the boy and his mother to the truth, making a point to set consequences for each lie the boy had told him in blood. But to his astonishment, they had repeated the story word for word with no change.

It appeared those curious myths from cold English countryside and Irish superstitions held more than just a grain of truth. The careful stories and dangerous whispers of sidhe and unseelie with their dark and broken courts were true. The Fae, the fairy folk, were real. Not gone, but banished into the shadows of the world they still coveted.

But the world belonged to Klaus now.

It was not a world he would easily give up. That the Fae courts considered him their enemy, and that they worked to undermine his power from the shadows had been both an amusement and an annoyance. But the death of Tyler changed that.

His hybrid had been a fool, but his life belonged to Klaus. If the fae thought they could take it without consequence, they would soon discover they were wrong. If Tyler had sought to partner with the Fae…

Well, that would require a different sort of approach. A bloodier one. One that would cause even the Courts to pause before trying such a thing again. He would not allow them to believe they could risk a war with the potential of his mate being so close to finally, finally being in his grasp.

But Sean? Sean was acting under a compulsion to find and lure more of his people to Klaus. To locate the human/Fae offspring that hoped to find a foothold in his kingdom and unseat him. So far, Sean had only brought him the one. Defiant. Arrogant. Sharply beautiful in the moonlight, but still somewhat human in appearance.

They’d had the most _delightful_ conversation.

In it, Klaus had learned that while a magical binding, a geas, might block much in terms of what a Fae-child might speak about, it did not save them from the demands of compulsion. He’d watched as his guest had torn themself apart, attempting to satisfy two masters and it was an experiment he’d been hoping to try again.

“Tonight is not an easy night for someone with my power to move through the city.” Sean said finally, his words careful and hesitant. “The cousins are hunting.”

Klaus lifted a brow as he digested what his pet Fae was telling him. Sean had referred to such cousins before, the half-Fae children sired by Fae fathers. They were said to lack individuality, breed to become the keys the Fae fitted into the locks of the Veil. But so far none had the strength so prized by the Courts, and none could do much as see the Veil.

Still. They were usually far more subtle in their machinations in his city. His original concerns were not so far off the mark, then. “There are many disruptions in this city on any given night. Be specific.”

Sean shook his head, the false calm of his compelled obedience at odds with his uneasy eyes. “There is too much magic in the air to see anything clearly. Whatever caused the disturbance, they want it badly.”

“Do they?” He refilled his glass, kept his words light. “One of my hybrid’s was found dead this evening. Well, his head. I’m told the decapitation was clean, likely done in a single stroke. The work of your people?”

Surprise and alarm flickered across that pale face. “Unlikely. For the Courts, such a kill would be a cause to rejoice.” He spread his hands, Adam’s apple moving as he swallowed. “This is not that.”

Klaus mulled over his words. “Human hunters sometimes manage such kills, though to take one of my hybrids in such a way?” Reaching for his glass, he took a slow drink. “It is not likely.”

Sean shook his head. “The Fae have not been given permission to attack you. If they knew of my existence, of the knowledge I had given you…”

Klaus roamed towards the glass windows, gaze lowering to watch the masses churn as he considered that note of fear in Sean’s voice. He could even admire the ruthlessness that had left behind such terrible scars on their populations but he would not tolerate letting such a thing make its way into the heart of his people. The Queens were not the threat Sean should worry about. Not tonight.

“Need I remind you that they cannot reach you here? Not with their weakness to iron. And for all that they hope to grow their own army of half-breeds, I doubt your so-called royalty would sully their blood with a human. There cannot be great strength in what they have cast into the world.”

In the crowd, a flash of gold caught his attention and for some reason, his eyes lingered. His gaze dipped, tracking the progress of what appeared to be a human girl. Something about the movement of her body, the shift of hip and shoulder kept his eyes on her as she moved through the packed space. She didn’t try to join the uninhibited dancing, slipping through the empty spaces with graceful movements that intrigued him. Idly, Klaus wondered what had driven her to this place of vice and blood. How she had found such a place on a night like tonight.

“There have been… rumors.”

Those words pulled him away from the masses below, tugged him back from the start of the Hunt he would not put off for much longer. If this was a witches trick, Chicago would call New Orleans a _mercy_.

Klaus turned to face Sean, brows lifted. “What kind of rumors?”

A long, long pause, as if the words were being plucked one at a time from the depth of his lungs. “Of dissent. Not all of the children born on this side of the veil wish are happy with the status quo.”

Klaus shook his head, letting disappointment color his voice. “Sean, Sean. What have I said about keeping secrets?” The long fingers on Sean’s right hand curled into a fist, his eyes bright. “You cannot keep them. You will tuck them away into your lungs and bones and my compulsions will always pry them loose.”

“It _shouldn’t_ be real,” Sean said, the first hint of desperation entering his voice. “To defy the will of a Queen, that should be an impossible thing. They will retaliate.”

“Should it? Do you not even now strain against the hold I have on you, the chains I have so generously allowed you to remember, to feel so you know your own limits? Should not the cast off and bastard children of the court not do the same?” Klaus smiled, dimples cutting deep. “I wonder what the cost of such a defiance is? If they hate their makers as much as you hate me? Such an emotion can be quite the useful thing in traitors.”

His smile widened at Sean's sharp inhale, the shake in his voice. “To defy your Queen and Father requires magic, and anyone with that kind of magic is taken to a Court as soon as they can survive the trek across the Veil. The deception necessary to avoid that fate is beyond children. Those who wish to defy their father’s do not usually live long after their first rebellion.”

“I imagine there are more than your courts can imagine,” Klaus corrected. “They are half human, after all. And humans have such a powerful will to live.”

“The Queens will never allow it,” Sean said in a voice gone dull. “Even if someone does manage to defy their Father, they will eventually cross a line that the Queens will not forgive. They will call a Wild Hunt, and they will die.”

“You sound very sure.”

Sean laughed, the sound bitter. “I am a changeling. They will never kill me. Once they learn of what I have told you, that I have been captured, they will never be so merciful as to set a Hunt loose to kill me.”

Klaus already knew that. Changelings were surprisingly valuable to the Fae. Much like a doppelganger. And over the years, the magic that let them live in the human world had become very rare. He would need to take additional steps very soon, to ensure that Sean did not fall back into the hands of the Fae. Musing on the spells that the Bennett witch might be willing to work with the proper motivation, his gaze snagged on a handful of human men who had been waved into the club below.

Under his skin, his wolf bristled.

Klaus was certain he had seen them before, or someone very similar, though he could not recall where. They were all similar in height and build, their clothing nothing to remark upon. They should have blended into the room with ease. Instead, they stood out to him as vividly as a ghost from his peripheral vision that had sprung fully formed into a room. Yet, everything about them said human, and he should have dismissed them as such.

It was their expressions, he decided. The lack of either excitement or nerves was unusual. There was no anticipation, no flushed cheeks or darting eyes. Humans rarely had such poise. Gaze flickering to his staff, Klaus watched as one of his hybrid bartenders tracked the group with a faint look of recognition, her lips twisting in distaste.

This was not their first visit then.

Intrigued, Klaus considered the likelihood of a possibility as it occurred to him. “Tell me. If what you say is true, and your Queens have called a Wild Hunt. Just how desperate would those tasks with such a thing be?

“It is too early in the night for a hunt.”

“Explain.”

“Even a Queen’s magic cannot breach the veil easily. It is only for a single hour a day such a thing is possible.” Sean took a careful breath. “Most Fae on this side of the veil do not sleep between the hours of three and four am. Most do not sleep at all until after dawn.”

Klaus tracked one of the humans as he moved through the crowd. No one seemed to notice him easily, even so far as one vampire bumping directly into them. That was an impossibility. Magic then. It improved the chances that the men below were Fae, as witch-magic would have been noticed by his security spells. “Such a thing can not be easily accomplished then or lightly forgiven if failed.”

“The courts do not allow failure. A Hunt is a thing of magic and teeth. You can hide from it, maybe, but you can’t outrun it. And once it finds you, it takes you to them.”

Them. Either their Queen or their Father.

Klaus smiled, a thing with teeth and dimples, amusement scoring deep. A Fae on the run would be _most_ willing to bargain, if he gave them any chance of safety. And they had a mere half hour to strike that bargain, if the half-Fae being hunted had indeed sought safety in this club. A half hour was hardly a blink of time, and he had so many questions. But first, he needed to ensure the Fae who had entered his club did not catch their prey first.

He had counted six when they had entered, and he watched as they spread across the floor. How unfortunate for them that they had chosen to turn this place into their hunting grounds. Kol had so complained that he had not gotten a chance to meet the last Fae he had captured. He rather thought his brother would appreciate the chance to meet these.

Once more he studied the floor, gaze skimming along jostling limbs and the crush of the crowd. The arrogance that they displayed said they would not be subtle and would be easy to predict, and he intended to wrap up this little bonus as quickly as possible. The longer he remained in the club the sharper his wolf's rage and determination grew. He would not be able to put off the hunt for his mate much longer and maintain any sort of control of his bloodlust. While he would not mind killing one or two of them, he needed as many of those Fae alive as he could manage. They kept such lovely secrets, and he wanted them.

Around the club his hybrids stilled at the sudden pressure of his will, their gazes roaming the floor as they too hunted for what was out of place. Everything seemed normal, humans and supernatural alike in wild abandon, those at the edges of the crowd just beginning to shift nervously at the shift in atmosphere. The first hint of impending danger skittered down their spines, vampires looking away from their dinners, the rare witch frowning in concern. Even the humans noticed, drawing away from the vampires around them as their primal instincts flared with warning.

But nothing drew his attention as out of place.

Nothing… his eyes snagged on the fall of wild blonde hair, the girl who caught his attention earlier. This time, however, her face was upturned and her gaze turned towards him as if she could sense him, standing behind the glass.

Impossible.

But for a dozen heartbeats the pale blue of her gaze unknowingly clashed with his, and his wolf scored his bones.

* * *

Caroline hated it when she was wrong. She hated having to _admit it_ even more, so at least she hadn’t texted Bonnie the details of her slightly desperate plan. If she survived until dawn, she had every intention of never mentioning this decision of hers to anyone, ever.

Coming to the club had been a mistake.

Her father was definitely calling a Hunt. No Fae in the city could miss the build up of power, the itch that sat on the back of her neck in warning. Sweat beaded at her spine, and she struggled to keep the signs of strain off her face. There was always a chance that the Hunt wasn’t for her, but with Tyler’s blood beneath her nails, she doubted it.

All around her, humans and vampires mingled, the music the DJ pumped through the speakers loud enough to rattle her teeth. The club smelled of blood and sweat, the musky undertones of arousal thick in the back of her throat. On any other night she’d would have thrown herself into the hypnotic pulse of the crowd, found a cute boy to charm and lost herself in the crowd.

Tonight, she should have already done a circle of the room and disappeared back into the streets. She’d even used just a little more magic and upped the layers of her glamour, risking a migraine and exhaustion but increasing her chances of anonymity. She should have been nearly unnoticeable to anyone actively looking for her, and in this mosh pit of scents, her escape should have been assured.

Her cousin’s had found her anyway. She’d felt them arrive, the dull glow of Fae-magic sharp against her hyper alert senses. Somehow, they were tracking her when it should have been impossible. And they weren’t the only ones who had noticed her.

Sliding her tongue between her teeth, Caroline bit down hard as another wave of warm awareness rolled down her spine. Her skin prickled with it, adrenaline a shot to her already taxed system. She was sorely tempted to dig out her phone and send Bonnie a series of slightly hysterical texts, because there was no doubt in her mind who was causing such a reaction in her magic.

Not when she had been dealing with a softer version of the draw for most of her adult life. She just didn’t know _why_ her magic was reacting so strongly to Klaus’ presence. Closing her eyes, she briefly fantasized about taking a shot or twelve of vodka and then hiding in the women’s toilet until while she drunkenly panic messaged her best friend. The only thing that stopped her was that it would just take too long to have the kind of freak out she deserved, and getting drunk then was a very _bad_ idea.

Drunk-Caroline was not known for her brilliant decisions, and she was as likely to go careening straight towards Klaus as she was to get the hell out of dodge. For the first time in her life she almost regretted pissing her father off. Almost. Glancing up towards the window of the one way glass that denoted either a private room or office high above the dance floor, she exhaled noisily. Whatever this was, whatever magic drew her like a moth to a flame, it would still be there tomorrow.

If she didn’t pull herself together, she might not be.

Squaring her shoulders, she forced herself back to the problem at hand. She needed to get out and make her way towards the Graceland Cemetery, and while she shuddered at the thought of that much consecrated ground mixed with iron, her human blood would hopefully shield her from the worst of it. The iron poisoning would make the ordeal far worse than it needed to be, but she’d probably live. Never let it be said that she didn’t have a list and a plan, even when flying by the seat of her pants.

As for her escape, it was complicated by the presence of her cousins, but not for the first time did she mentally pat past-Caroline on the back for picking up useful hobbies. Architect wasn’t on a long list of things most people considered fun, but the symmetry and math of it had always appealed to her. She liked to study buildings. A handy hobby for a girl who routinely needed to make quick escapes.

More importantly, she’d never been able to help herself where Klaus was concerned and had spent a considerable amount of time tracking down original blueprints for some of the more interesting buildings he was rumored to own. Most of them had undergone renovations after purchase, but while a door or a hallway might change, the bones of buildings stayed the same.

Usually.

And if not, instagram was a great place to find pictures if you were willing to go digging.

Younger vampires were as prone to the occasional selfie as a human teenager, and they offered tantalizing glimpses into the environment and the building. The notes she’d made on her phone for this particular club listed two potential backdoor exits: a door she’d already confirmed as having a hybrid guard, and what was likely a terribly awkward window in the women’s restroom.

The ladies room was her current destination. Her side would limit anything too strenuous, she needed to be careful not to bleed all over the window. Blood would give an enterprising witch, or one of her cousins, an easy way to track her so she’d need to be smart. The window was less of a risk than trying to slip by a pair of hybrid guards when their master was leaving her control in pieces.

Caroline fought the urge to check the time on her phone

Around her, the crowd started to buzz. Warily glancing around looking for a hint of a cousin moving through the crowd, she forced herself to start moving. It was slow going, vampires and humans had started clumping together strangely at the edges of the dance floor, and even the bar had gone strangely empty, the music doing nothing to cover the anxious energy growing around her. Setting her teeth because she could see the sign pointing down the hallway for the bathrooms, she groaned out a breath as someone stumbled into her side, their hissing panic echoing through those around her like a flash point.

The skin between her shoulder blades started to _burn_.

 _Knowing_ that any hesitation might cost her, she still found her feet dragging. The tug that had been pulling at her joints and marrow since she had stepped foot inside the club burned through her, and it was with an aching clarity that she knew Klaus was somewhere behind her. She curled her fingers into fists to hide the way they’d begun to tremble and set her teeth as a thought occurred to her, one that should have considered years ago.

What if the connection went both ways?

Anticipation and anxiety flooded her system, and her breath caught in her throat. Stupid. It had been so stupid to think that such magic would only affect her, when it had become so much more the moment she’d stepped into the club. If he was at all sensitive to magic, if he felt even the smallest amount of the pull that she did and was looking for the source, she was screwed.

Klaus did not respond well to what he perceived as manipulation, magical or otherwise.

She wanted to turn around, see if he could pick her out of the crowd. She didn’t quite dare. Gathering herself, she forced herself to remember why _letting_ him catch her was a bad idea. Bonnie. The Wild Hunt. Her Father. She couldn’t allow herself to be distracted. Not tonight. If he caught her, she wasn’t sure she’d be able to slip away before the Hunt hit. Worse, with her tentative grip on her magic, she wasn’t sure she’d manage to hold her glamour.

Her glamour was hiding a number of secrets.

Letting her eyes scan the crowd, she tried to gauge which direction Klaus was moving by the way their eyes tracked him. There was little chance the monsters around her wouldn’t recognize him, and even if they didn’t, they’d recognize the power of him the same as her.

Before she could make a decision on a path, a very well put together vampire stopped directly in front of her. Her outfit was one that under any other circumstances, Caroline would have admired. But it was her eyes that had Caroline’s teeth clenching so hard, the muscles in her jaw jumped. Those eyes were full of invitation.

Towards Klaus. Probably. Lips pressing tightly together, Caroline wrestled with a sudden, violent surge of jealousy.

It was irrational, that she was mad that someone was potentially just _looking_ at Klaus in such a way. But irrational or not, she found she wanted to cause a scene. Sucking in a breath in an attempt to calm her sudden temper, she finally gave into the urge to peak. She _needed_ to know if Klaus was returning those bedroom eyes with his own, if the blatant admiration had caught his attention. She’d give herself just _one_ look, finally give a face to his name, and then she’d _go_.

Turning to glance over her shoulder, almost immediately her gaze slammed into a pair of blue eyes bleeding into gold. Something in her chest wrenched open as their gazes held, and it sucked all the air from her lungs. She couldn’t have identified his features or build, every part of her caught up in the wild storm building in her blood - a storm she could see echoed in his eyes.

 _Mine_.

The thought hit her system like a truck. Caroline had no idea how long she would have stood there, stunned and locked into a connection she had never felt with another creature in her life, but those fascinating eyes flared hot with rage and danger prickled down her spine. Spinning, Caroline danced backwards on instinct and barely avoided the knife aimed for her shoulder blades. Slender, face suffused with an old hatred she knew well, Caroline faced one of her many cousins as he tried to kill her.

She didn’t recognize him, but she never did.

Familiarity meant failure, and Caroline tried very hard to never fail. Right then, she had nothing to fight back with, no knife or magic to aid her, but she was fast. Shifting her weight to the balls of her feet, she prepared to fling herself away from her attacker and bolt for the back door. She was fairly certain a hybrid would be more interested in the one who was armed, and she could escape. After that, it’d just be a matter of running straight to the cemetery.

Muscles tensing as the knife flashed as he prepared for another lunge, she made an embarrassing noise of surprise as an arm reached around her and plunged into the Fae’s chest. He gasped as the air was driven from his lungs, his fingers going loose on the knife in his grip as his face went slack. Caroline swallowed noisily as that slender wrist, those long fingers pulled free as easily as if he’d ripped through paper mache instead of flesh, muscle and bone. And tucked between curved knuckles and palm was the heart of her cousin, still beating, as if it didn’t yet realize the body was dead. Her cousin folded before her like a broken offering, his eyes wide, mouth open, and the heat at her spine intensified as the monster who had plucked the heart free stepped closer.

Klaus. Everything inside her said this was Klaus, her body vibrating like a resonating tuning fork. She knew if she stepped back the barest of movements, their bodies would touch. Her remaining magic surged beneath her skin, threatening to coil around them both in a welcome Caroline didn’t understand.

Around them the club emptied rapidly and she could barely hear the panicked screams over her heartbeat. In her peripheral vision, she could just make out more bodies as hybrids milled about, the smell of blood thick in the air. It was a strain not to lean back and absorb more of him, to search out his skin with her greedy fingertips, and she squeezed her eyes shut to keep herself from moving.

“Hungry, love?”

She pressed her lip between her teeth at the edge in those softly voiced words. She forced herself to ignore the thump of want that burned through her at the idea of a fresh meal. Flesh wasn’t her preferred food, though blood was a temptation thanks to her father’s heritage, but something stirred in her chest at the offering he presented to her so carelessly. An offering he should not have known to make.

Her glamour was holding. Barely, but it was there. A lifetime of unease and a refusal to trust strangers colored her words. “Not for that.”

A hint of a smile curved against her skin as his head dipped, the scruff of his beard brushing against the side of her neck. Caroline nearly shuddered at the sensation, and his cheek moved against hers as his smile widened, clearly noting her response. “Now that isn’t entirely true, is it? I have it on excellent authority that your kind does enjoy the occasional foray into blood play, though I’m told it does depend on just what bloodline you are from. You didn’t sound repulsed.”

And the strange bubble she’d found herself in burst around her as his words penetrated the haze his touch had left behind. She shifted away from him, and his arm fell away letting her step free of his embrace. Her skin felt cold and too tight, her side throbbing and Caroline twisted to stare at the man who had so easily shattered every defense she’d had. Her breath hitched in her throat as she took in the planes of his stupidly attractive face, the deceptively lean lines of his body and the devouring pit behind his eyes.

“My kind?”

His mouth curled upwards on one side, and she tried not to be fascinated by the start of a dimple in his cheek. Setting her teeth against the insanity of wanting to touch him, she narrowed her eyes at the way his gaze dragged down the lines of her body in a perusal that left her temperature several degrees higher before his eyes returned to hers.

“Your kind,” he repeated easily. Casually, he brought the heart he still held in his hand to his mouth and bit down. He dropped it a moment later and smiled with bloody lips. “Though your disguise is infinitely better than the last Fae I had the pleasure of meeting. I’m going to have to insist you drop it.”

Her spine snapped straight at the bite of command in his voice, and her words were cool and clipped when she spoke. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

HIs laugh was soft, dangerous. He closed the gap between them with a predator’s walk, but this time his eyes were not on her. Swallowing at the brush of his shoulder, the rush of irritation that he was no longer looking _at her,_ she turned to see what had drawn his attention. Her teeth immediately sank harshly into her tongue to stop her reactive cursing.

Every half-Fae offspring had a death ward. Bonnie had made Caroline’s. It was a necessary precaution to keep their secrets as the spell used the power of a fae’s death to hide their fae-features, any of their potentially strange anomalies in their blood or extra organs that could show up in an autopsy. Death magic was dangerous but it almost never failed.

This cousin of hers either _didn’t have one_ or the work had been so shoddy it had failed. She didn't know which option was worse. The sharp planes of his cheekbones, and pristine skin only a vampire or hybrid could match was now on full display. His hair might have been brown, but it was thick and shinier than a human’s could ever be. His round ears were a chance to deny what was in front of her, but no vampire or witch would look at his body and think _human_.

“I think we can both agree that your people are not the secret they wish to be,” Klaus murmured. Tension left her shoulders drawn taunt, her stomach twisting with unease. He _knew_. He didn’t seem bothered by her silence, head tipping as he studied her cousin before turning to face her again.

“Now, _your_ secrets are another matter. While my people take care to deal with this little incursion properly, let’s take this conversation somewhere a bit more private, hmm?” Her pulse skipped at the dip in his voice, the invitation he made his body as he leaned lightly against her. “You can tell me all about those who are hunting you and why.”

Caroline opened and closed her mouth, words failing her. It was only the careful pressure of his hand settling against her spine that kept her standing next to him. That single touch both alarmed and settled her, and she swallowed past the sudden knot in her throat. Inexplicably, beyond any reason, she felt _safe_ with his hands on her. “That doesn’t seem like a good idea.”

“And why is that?” He questioned. His thumb rotated upward, running along a knot in her spine as if trying to soothe to tense muscles beneath his palm. “I’m quite certain you know who I am, do you not?”

She scowled at the hint of arrogance, the certainty in his voice. The curling smirk along his full lips made her want to bite, and something about the way he watched her invited the move. “Yes.”

“Excellent.” His chin lowered, voice deepening into a coaxing drawl. “And your name, love?”

This close, she could see the individual striations as the gold bled into the blue of his eyes. It was a physical strain, not to lean closer and to press her hand against the firm plane of his chest, to breathe in the scent of his skin and let it soothe the ragged edges of her night. Decades of curiosity and need had finally been given form, and she craved bare skin against her own, wanted to touch him with an intensity she’d never felt before.

Mine, her magic had whispered. _Mine_.

She swallowed hard, uncertain.

As if he could sense it, as if he knew, the bloody fingers of his dominant hand curled slowly around her wrist, so _careful_ as if he didn’t wish to spook her, and he lifted her arm so that the trembling curve of her fingers pressed lightly against the scruff of his jaw. Her breath hitched at the feel of him beneath her touch, the way his lashes moved as if he too felt her down to his bones.

She couldn’t force herself to step away, letting her palm linger along the curve of his jaw. Klaus leaned ever so slightly into her hand, and the knot in her chest unraveled like a slow sigh. Her side was a steady throb of pain, she was magically exhausted, and Klaus Mikaelson was touching her like she was precious.

“Caroline,” she said at last, words thick with emotions she couldn’t name, answering the question he’d asked her. “My name is Caroline.”

A hum of pleasure that vibrated through her fingertips. “Caroline. Let’s go upstairs. There are a number of things we need to discuss.”


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, a giant thank you to Kiry who cheer-leaded this entire story from October to now. And a shout out to the delightful peeps on the Klaroline server who also listened to be complain, and in particularly, BelleMorte who helped kick start the smut in this chapter. Goldcaught - I hope this meets your expectations!
> 
> For everyone else, please note the tags have been updated for this appropriately.

Caroline was halfway up the stairs when she remembered the Wild Hunt and stumbled, shock that _she’d forgotten_ a fist around her throat as her fingers scrambled for the railing. She did not forget things, not like this. Not when forgetting could lead to her death. The realization of just how easily Klaus had slipped through her defenses left panic welling in her veins, and she almost tumbled a second time.

“All right, love?”

A strong hand landed on her side to steady her, and she flinched with an instinctive hiss, fire crawling up her ribs. Behind her, Klaus went still and dangerous, a soft noise rumbling in his throat. Swallowing, she blinked past watery eyes to see that the flesh of his palm had come away with her blood.

He’d used his left hand to steady her, and wasn’t that strange, that he’d be considerate of her clothing when he hadn’t bothered wiping his right hand clean? It also meant that there was no way she was going to manage to pretend the blood was from his earlier demonstration of heart surgery. She didn’t know when she’d started bleeding again or when her glamour had become so ragged that the blood was starting to seep through. Her pulse raced, and it took teeth gritted with the effort not to reach for her ears, to see if they _felt_ round, to know if she'd lost all ability to affect the physical, so that only the mirage remained.

“What happened?”

The bite of his voice was deadly but it didn’t scare her. Shifting her weight, she carefully turned to face him. The ridiculous attractiveness of his face was no less of an impact now than the first time she’d looked at him, the need that had followed her for decades blooming into a mess of tangled emotions in her chest. Every part of her wanted to reach out, to cup his face between her hands and see just what he would give her. This monster who wasn’t known for his mercy or his benevolence, who held her with careful hands and touched her so gently. All she had to do was reach out and he’d be warm and alive beneath her fingers, the mystery of all these years solvable.

If she’d just take it.

But reality was settling in. The reasons she denied Bonnie’s suggestion of ending up exactly where she was now less than an hour ago hadn’t changed, she _couldn’t be here_ when the Wild Hunt hit. She couldn’t let Bill learn about this, couldn’t turn Bonnie and Enzo into bigger targets than they already were. No matter how her libido felt about his lips and his eyes, the idea of her father knowing anything about this strange pull, this connection that left her shaky and covetous shifted her panic and fear into anger.

Swallowing hard to shove the knot emotions down, she shook her head and motioned for him to move. She made her words stay firm, very carefully not thinking of her own audacity. “You need to move so I can go.”

Klaus’ head tipped to the side, brows arching as he deliberately shifted to fully block the stairs. He was lean, the long lines of him deceptive when his fingers were stained with more than just her blood. She was absolutely positive she’d never be able to budge him. “Go where?”

Caroline straightened her spine and shrugged. “Does that matter?”

Gaze holding hers, he brought the hand with her bloodstains on his palm to his mouth and licked. Something a lot like arousal flushed through her at the glimpse of his tongue, and his eyes flared gold again. “Your blood tastes too much like iron, love. Your skin is warm, though I’m unfamiliar with your normal temperature range, and your pulse is erratic. I’ve seen what damage iron leaves behind, the telltale signs of poisoning. What will I find beneath your shirt and magic?”

Iron. He could taste the iron poisoning. Jolting at the thought, at the murmur of his voice as his gaze skimmed down her body as he said _beneath_ and _shirt_ , she shook her head. “ _That_ isn’t important right now.”

“I’m afraid I disagree.”

Caroline crossed hers, refused to flinch as the motion pulled at her side. “So?”

His lips curled, something darkly amused in his expression. “So?”

Chin jutting out, she kept her voice carefully controlled, even as she wanted to fidget beneath his gaze, wanted to push him to the side so she could run, wanted to fist her hands in his shirt and hold on. The terrible mix of wanting left her muscles drawn taut with strain. “I don’t see how you agreeing with me or not right now has anything to do with the fact that I need to be somewhere _else_.”

Caroline sank as much steel into her voice as she could manage, and the crease of his dimples deepened. “And where is that, love? I don’t know much about your Wild Hunts, but I do know a bit about your kind. Iron and salt, consecrated ground. That’s how you hold off the Fae.” Klaus’ eyes filled with challenge and he moved up a single step, bringing their mouths excruciatingly close together. His gaze lowered to trace the shape of her lips before his wolf-eyes returned to hers and her heart slammed into her throat.

“You’re wounded. We’re nowhere close enough to a place of refuge that you’d make it before three am. Admit it. Your best bet of surviving is me.”

Something unfamiliar caught in her throat at the arrogance in his voice, the crisp delivery of his words. _Her best bet of survival was him_. As if she hadn’t spent her life surviving just fine. As if she needed _rescuing_ by him. She was half terrified that if she opened her mouth, she’d laugh.

Klaus Mikaelson was turning out to be the most arrogant man she had ever met, and that was astonishing considering her parentage. The curl of his mouth, the glint in his eyes left her wanting to bite back, she just wasn’t sure she wanted to use words or teeth. The fullness of his bottom lip was shockingly tempting.

Digging her fingers into her palms to hold in a temper he’d so easily scraped against, she forced herself to concentrate on the first part of his words. Salt, iron, consecrated ground. Three am. All things he shouldn’t know. Like he shouldn’t have known of her cousin's existence, of the spells that hid them.

“How do you know so much about Fae? How do you know _any_ of that?” She barely restrained from curling her fingers into his shirt and shaking him, as if she could rattle the truth from his bones. “Why do you want to _help_ me?”

Klaus’ breath puffed across her chin, and he smiled with his fangs on easy display, veins darkening beneath his eyes. “Why don’t you climb the rest of the stairs and find out?”

Inside her head, the phantom clock kept ticking and frustration surged. Growling a little in her throat, Caroline leaned closer, lips so close to his she could feel the heat of his skin. His monster’s face was real, and it didn’t terrify her. It was strangely exhilarating, this truth.

He didn’t scare her.

“No,” she challenged, testing that lack of fear on her tongue. “I’m not risking my life for one of your whims. You want me to go with you? Give me a reason.”

A life of a brow. “Or what?”

The edge of mocking in his voice set her teeth on edge. What would she do, magically exhausted and injured? It would be easy to invoke Bonnie, but it felt wrong. This was between them. Tipping her head to the side, she held his gaze with hers. “Do you really want to see just how hard I’ll push back? If I’m willing to break myself to escape a cage? Because I am.”

He might be unmovable, but she’d shove at him all the same. The unexpected heat of his palm settled along the delicate lines of her collarbones, his head dipping so his forehead nearly touched hers. In the dingy stairwell, the world was made of only him and his monsters.

“No,” he murmured, lips twisting. “It seems I do not want that. My wolf has claimed you.”

Her breath left her on a rush. Something slotted inside her, a missing piece of the puzzle, tension unwinding. “What does that mean?”

“I suppose we will have to find out.” A soft puff of his breath against her lips as he sighed. “However, I believe we are wasting time here, are we not? Unless you want to see just how I’ll rage against your people should you be taken?”

Her gaze narrowed at the bite in his words, the raw truth in his eyes as he stared at her. For a moment she couldn’t breathe. “If you get yourself killed because of this, do _not_ blame me.”

Spinning on her heel, she marched up the stairs, heart hammering.

Laughter, low and darkly amused followed her. “Ah, but didn’t you know, Caroline? I can’t be killed.”

She set her teeth against the draw of his amusement, that rich tone that echoed in the stairwell all around her. Everything could be killed. And the Queens had nothing but time and magic on their side. And even if he spoke correctly, if his immortality was _true_ , there were some fates worse than death. The thought of him being captured left her strangely breathless with fear.

Klaus was at her back before she’d finish turning the handle of the door at the top of the stairs, his hand settling on her good hip to usher her through the door. Glancing around, Caroline assumed that this was the VIP Space she’d noticed what felt like hours ago. She paused partly into the room when she realized they weren’t alone, surprised that she’d almost missed him. He was standing quietly to the side, feet set slightly apart, body unnaturally still.

His face and build was human, but there was no mistaking the magic that clung to him. Bewildered, she stared at him. “You’re a changeling.”

His mouth pulled strongly to the side, the grimace not reaching the unnatural calm of his eyes. “And you’re a half-bred bastard.”

The words bounced off her skin, harmless, but Klaus’ voice could have frozen water. “Best dust off those manners of yours, Sean. The next insult will cost you your tongue.”

The nod from Sean was automatic, an automated response that spoke of nothing natural. She would have flinched if that tone had been directed at her, and she’d grown up on a knife edge of terror. But the changeling stood there, serene and unnatural. Swallowing, she glanced over her shoulder at the man who she didn’t understand, and took a deep breath. “Fae aren’t easily compelled.”

Klaus’ gaze met hers, and the glitter behind his eyes was warm with approval. “Smart. And while that might be true for my sirelings, you’ll learn that many of the known rules do not apply to me.”

The compliment shouldn’t have warmed her insides, but it did. He was distracting, that glimmer of approval heady. Glancing at the clock on the wall, the old fashioned hands ticking closer and closer to three am, she bit the tip of her tongue to hold in her questions. Sirelings, hybrids and vampires, and just who could compel her people after a lifetime of her father’s assurance that such a thing was impossible, had to wait.

“So what’s your grand plan? Because I see neither salt nor iron, and we have six minutes to figure something out.” She crossed her arms and frowned at him, fighting the urge to tap her foot impatiently. “Hunt magic isn’t some simple witch spell that can be easily foiled. It is rage given shape.”

Before Klaus could speak, Sean interrupted, his voice thick with horror. “You brought her here? When the Hunt wants her?”

Caroline frowned at him. As far as she knew, what small tidbits her father had spoken truly about her kind was that changelines could not be taken by a Hunt. Their magic was too similar to gate magic, and to try such a thing would threaten to destabilize an already delicate system. Why did Sean not know that?

It probably didn’t matter, but it was strange, and she filed a mental note to look into it later. Feeling Klaus’ gaze in her she made herself relax, keeping her tone carefully even. Claimed or not, there were some things that she would not speak of here. “We don’t know I’m the target. Not for sure.”

It was as close to lying as she dared. Technically, they couldn’t know for sure who the Hunt wanted until the Horns sounded, but she knew. She could almost taste Bill’s magic building the storm.

“Perhaps not,” Klaus agreed as he stepped around her and headed for a table that held a bottle of whiskey and the two empty tumblers that had been left next to it. Picking up a cloth napkin, he set about methodically cleaning his hand. When he was finished, he arched a brow in a silent question, head tipped towards the booze and she shook her head.

Alcohol was the last thing she needed just then.

Klaus poured himself several fingers worth into a single glass and then tipped his head to the side as he watched her. “But we can assume, can’t we, love? I imagine those relatives of yours weren’t hunting you through my club for no reason.”

She gave him a flat look. “ _Stop_ calling me that.”

In her pocket, her phone vibrated, and her fingers clenched. There were only two people who had her number, and she didn’t want to hear from any of them just then. Klaus’ gaze dipped to her waist, and that thoughtfulness turned into calculation. His eyes returned to hers and she narrowed her gaze in warning.

“Seriously, you bullied me up here. Since you vetoed _my_ idea, surely you have a better one?”

He ignored her question. “Who is messaging you?”

“I haven’t looked,” she replied caustically.

A glittering glance that was more warning than threat, Klaus took a slow sip of his drink. “And what exactly was your plan? Other than running.”

“Graceland Cemetery.”

Sean snorted. “What good would that have done?”

Caroline ignored him. “And you? What exactly _is_ your amazing plan, Klaus? I’m absolutely _breathless_ with anticipation.”

A boyish smile, his eyes full of his wolf. “Tell me, how does Hunt Magic track you, Caroline? I have theories, of course, but I would like to hear you confirm them.”

“Why?”

“Indulge me.”

Such a simple statement. But the flick of his gaze to linger on the shape of her mouth, the brief appearance of his tongue against his lip, left her flushed. She bit her lip briefly, her gaze darting to Sean’s silent, attentive figure.

“Sean will be as silent as a tomb,” Klaus assured her, amusement dark and glittering in his eyes when she glanced back at him. “Won’t you, Sean?”

The changeling’s fingers curled into fists. “Do I have a choice?”

“No.” Klaus said mildly. “See, Caroline? Your secrets are safe from anyone outside this room, and if Sean even considers betraying you, he’ll eat his own liver.”

Caroline swallowed at the visual. There were too many secrets breaking wide open tonight, but she couldn’t see how it could be avoided. Not if she wanted to live. Closing her eyes briefly, she opened them and glanced at the clock. She was almost out of time. Klaus had made it clear they were doing things his way and as much as it galled, she wanted to survive.

“Blood,” she said finally, words low, fingers absently rubbing at her breastbone. “I am my father’s child. If the Hunt has been set to look for me, it is by his blood that they will find me.”

Klaus smiled. Bringing his wrist to his mouth, he used the edge of his fangs to slice it open. Still smiling, blood beaded on his lips, he held the bleeding vein over an empty glass. “Ah, how fortunate for us that I might be able to help with that. My blood is magic.”

Looking upward, she rolled her eyes hard enough to hurt. “Oh my god.”

A rough noise of amusement. “Show me your side.”

She dropped her chin, and blinked. “What?”

He made an impatient motion with his free hand. “How badly are you hurt?”

Caroline stared at him in disbelief. “What does that have to do with your plan?”

“Vampire blood heals love, hybrid blood more so. I haven’t had the opportunity to test it on your kind yet, of course, my last guest and I had other... pressing topics to discuss.” His eyes glimmered as he absently licked his wrist closed. “Let’s call this a test. Drop your glamour and drink the blood. That should give us a fair idea of our room for error.”

Her spine stiffened at the note of command in his voice. “ _Do not_ give me orders.”

He arched his brows. “No?”

“I am not one of your minions.”

Pleased, as if she had passed some unspoken test, he pressed his hip against the table. “If what you say is true Caroline, a blood bond is powerful, but your kind does not create sire-bonds among their progeny, and they must force obedience through blood and fear. Admirable, but hardly efficient. I imagine it is why they must resort to such powerful magic to pull you home. Magic, even Fae magic, must still follow certain rules on this side of the Veil. Rules can be disrupted.”

She blinked. “You think your blood has enough magic to confuse the Hunt, stop it from having a chance to lock onto me?”

His eyes gleamed with approval. “Yes.”

Caroline studied him, considering his words. He’d said his wolf had claimed her. Did she trust that enough to do this? Blood sharing was dangerous at best, binding at worst. She and Bonnie had never discussed what vampire blood might do to her if she ingested it. Fae didn’t always react well to things born on earth, and vampire blood was something born _long_ after the Fae had been banished. It had been an oversight, and one she cursed.

“Your injury, Caroline. We _are_ in a bit of a rush.”

“Has anyone ever told you that you're kind of a dick?” She snapped, gathering the threads of magic she had used to craft her glamour. He’d boxed her in rather neatly, and she’d remember that going forward. She’d expected the violence, but not the cunning and she should have. Monsters didn’t stay ahead of their enemies as long as Klaus without a certain kind of brilliance.

“Not and kept their tongues.”

Fingertips glimmering with magic, she bared her teeth. “ _Ass_.”

Releasing the hold on her magic, the pressure on her temples, behind her eyes, disappeared on a wave of relief. Glamour magic wasn’t difficult, but it could be exhausting. The key was to keep the changes as simple as possible: rounded ears instead of curved, the subtle changes of her bone structure to keep her face human. It was easier to do because her coloring was her mother’s. In front of her, Klaus went predator still, his eyes drifting along the subtle changes in her face, the difference in her clothing, before his eyes slid to the delicate points of her ears that were now visible.

His gaze was fascinated, the dark of his blown pupils narrowing the gold of his iris to a narrow band. She felt too hot with his eyes on her, her body naked of the magic she so rarely went without. Reaching for the hem of her shirt, she pulled it just high enough to show the spiraling blackness of iron poisoning against her side, the angry red line where she’d been stabbed. It’d closed again, but she could see where it had torn open earlier.

Klaus’ eyes dragged along the wound, and his mouth tightened in a thin line. “Later, we will be discussing how you got that.”

“Again, _why_ do you think I follow orders?”

Wolf-yellow eyes swung to hers and the edges of his mouth curved, just a little. “No? I can think of a few instances where you might be willing.” He nudged the glass closer to her, not commenting on her shaky inhale. “Drink the blood, sweetheart. We’re out of time. If my theory is correct, and I’m rarely wrong, this is your best chance.”

“Oh, only _rarely_ wrong.”

Klaus lifted a shoulder in what might have been a shrug in a different era. “Only one way to find out.”

Blood sharing was likely a bad idea, but she was out of time and options. The clock ticked over to three, and she bit out a curse. No real choice, then. Reaching for the glass, she drank the still warm blood quickly, trying not to think too hard about it. Her father had always refused to tell her the exact nature of his heritage, exactly which court he swore his allegiance, but she had made a few guesses over the years. That she could drink blood without abhorrence, that she could gain energy and magic from it, gave credence to her assumptions. Her father belonged to Tatiana’s Court. Unseelie blood ran in her veins.

But until tonight, she’d never taken more than a mouthful from Bonnie, and only in the direst of circumstances. She could count on one hand the number of times she’d agreed to the emergency course of action. None of those instances could have prepared her for this.

Klaus had not lied.

His blood _was_ magic, and it punched her system like a shot of pure energy. She could almost taste the makings of him, those hot flashes of spellwork that lived in his veins that had turned ancient. He had not lied, when he claimed immortality, and it tasted like dark chocolate on her tongue. But it wasn't _just_ the unexpected hit of his magic, but the welcome of it on her tongue. The way she could feel her magic surge up greedily, how easily it was to swallow it down. Not even with Bonnie, had she welcomed the forgein power so readily. Magic had never so freely come to her call. It was almost as if she could _hear_ the howl of a wolf.

Heat pulsed in her chest, a thread pulled taunt, and she finished the glass with a shudder, swaying on her feet. Klaus was there almost immediately, fingers curling around her wrist to steady her. Something about the gold of his wolf peeking at her, the slight shake of his fingers as he his free hand slid beneath her shirt, fingertips seeking out her side, told her that he’d felt the connection between them too.

Satisfaction crossed his face as her skin knitted rapidly beneath his touch. “Good.”

 _So_ arrogant. She wanted him to flatten his palm, press his skin firmly against hers and keep it there. As if he could hear the thought, his touch firmed, thumb brushing a teasing caress across her skin.

Caroline inhaled on an unsteady breath, and took stock. In the distance, she could still feel the gathering magical storm. She was torn between annoyance and relief that he’d been right. Those few mouthfuls of blood had dulled the connection between them, no longer could she feel the hunt pressing against the back of her neck like a naked blade.

“What was that?”

His eyes lifted to her face, a small, satisfied curling the edge of his lips. “What was what?”

She glared at his deliberate obtuseness, the way his wolf-yellow eyes made a liar of him. He knew exactly what she was asking. The wolf song in her blood. Claim, what did that mean for a wolf?

“Really?”

Behind them, Sean gave a bitter laugh, interrupting whatever it was Klaus was going to say. “It didn’t work. They are still coming.”

Caroline held Klaus’ eyes for a heartbeat, making sure he understood she wouldn’t drop it so easily, before shifting her attention. “What didn’t work?”

She asked the question out of habit, unwilling to let Sean know the exact nature of her magic. Let him think she was dumb, she’d survive longer. Because he was wrong: what built to the East was not the work of the Queens, but her father. And Klaus’ blood had done more with those two mouthfuls to dull the connection to her father than she’d have thought possible.

The Changeling pointed to the East. “The Hunt. It rides, and it is coming _here_.”

Klaus settled his palm along the bare skin of her side, something possessive about the hold. “Are you certain?”

Sean glared. “Ask her.”

Caroline licked her lips. Her words were slow, careful. “Yes and no.”

The horns of the hunt should have been loud in her ears, the sound of hooves bearing down upon her, but it was quiet inside her head. So it had mostly worked. _Room for error_ , Klaus had said earlier. His grasp of magical theory was surprisingly accurate.

“What does that mean, exactly?” Klaus asked, that cutting calculation back behind his eyes. His finger trailed down her side, nail a pleasant scrap across her skin. “You healed, so you are not immune to the effects of the magic that made me.”

“I can still feel the Hunt,” she started, but Sean cut her off with another of those false laughs.

“If you can see it, it can see you; that is how the Queen’s magic has always worked.” His gaze was bright with fear. “And seeing it has nothing to do with your eyes. They _see you_ , daughter of the Fae. They will come for you and they will learn I exist. You have doomed us both.”

Klaus studied Sean, any amusement stripped from his face at the changelings’ accusatory words. Rage lived beneath his skin, perilously close to erupting. Impulsively, she reached for his free hand, wrapping her fingers around his, ignoring the drying blood. Her attention snapped back to hers immediately. “He isn’t wrong that if they can find the trail of my magic, they can find me,” Caroline said. “But it's not as easy as he assumes.”

Klaus chin lowered, and he didn’t shake off her grip as he studied her face. “Then why the concern?”

Caroline huffed. “Because I don’t understand why it worked, rules on this side of the veil or not. I am my father’s daughter. Do you think I haven’t tried breaking this tie between us before? I can hide it, witch-magic can confuse it, but a Hunt is different. Nothing should have been able to separate it from the path it was put on and yet…”

“The magic that made me is of the earth, Caroline.” His words dipped, voice soft and deadly. “All witch-magic is and though those same witches may hate what I am, they may revile what my mother created, the earth has not rejected me.” His mouth curved into something small and dangerous. “Unlike your kin, I do keep the balance. You would do well to remember that.”

His words were as close to a threat as he’d given her that night. Her nails dig into the back of his hand. “I don’t respond well to threats.”

He brought her wrist to her mouth, dragging his lips along the rapid beat of her pulse and then upward. He paused, mouth lingering near the knuckle of her thumb, his eyes flashing brightly with something _knowing_. Then his tongue brushed hot and wet against her skin, and her brain short circuited with a sudden, vicious need that left her breath trembling in her throat. “Hardly a threat. I am a monster, Caroline, and I will do whatever I deem necessary to keep what is mine.”

She bared her teeth at the underlying warning, too off balance to be careful at his acknowledgement of what this was between them. She let a hint of her magic spark against his skin in warning. “So am I.”

“What you are is lovely, and out of time.” Klaus glanced at Sean, something old and terrible peeking out from behind his eyes for a heartbeat before he glanced back at her. “For this to work, how much blood do you need?”

Caroline rolled the inside of her lip between her teeth, tried to think. “You realize this is a guessing game on my end? It’s super chancy.”

“I don’t see that we've much of a choice at this point. But I assure you, allowing this Hunt to sweep you away to one of the fairy courts is entirely unacceptable.”

She believed him. Caroline took a deep breath and released his hand. “If I survive this, we are going to have a _talk_.”

Klaus met her gaze and nodded, once. “I look forward to it.”

Caroline took a deep breath. Bonnie was not going to be happy that she’d agreed to this without checking in with her first, but she wasn’t ready to open that can of worms. Not yet. “I’m going to need quite a bit of your blood. From the vein, preferably.”

Her stomach flipped, at the way Klaus looked at her from beneath his lashes. The sudden, open invitation on his face. “As much as you need, Caroline.”

She had to swallow down another hot rush of arousal. It was a bit ridiculous how easily he could leave her so aware of him with nothing more than a glance. “I’ve never tried to take more blood than what you’ve already given me tonight. I’m not sure how much I can handle. If it’ll be enough.”

“I think you can take more than you think,” Klaus said, his hand lifting free from her clothing, so his fingers could curve along the line of her jaw. “But we’ll see who is right soon enough.”

“I don’t know what kind of reaction I am likely to have,” she continued stubbornly. “Blood sharing isn’t quite not a high, not the way for vampires, but it's close enough, I guess. If this fails, and it turns into a fight, I won’t be of any help.”

She didn’t know if fighting the Hunt Magic was possible, but she was willing to try if needed.

“Hardly an issue, love,” he dismissed. “If it comes down to a physical altercation, I am more than enough to deal with it.”

“I _told_ _you…_ ,” Caroline started, scowling, but her words cut off on an embarrassing squeak when Klaus dipped and swung her into his arms, taking a single step backwards before sitting. She landed on his thighs, her newly healed side leaning against his chest. Her fingers pressed against the flat line of his abdomen before she could stop herself, palm flattening against the softness of his shirt.

Glancing up at the scruff of his jaw, she inhaled shakily. This close, the heat of him cradling her against all the lean muscle her hands coveted, and her pulse was a kick in her chest. “Are you always this cuddly?”

She’d meant those words to bite, instead they came out a little breathless. Klaus chuckled, bringing his wrist to his mouth. “I suppose we’ll find out.”

She caught his forearm, stopping him, and he paused, glancing at her as veins crawled beneath his eyes, leaving her more than a little fascinated. “Sean shouldn’t be here for this.”

There was no magical reason for it, but she didn’t want the Changeling’s eyes on them for this… sharing. This was meant to be private.

To her surprise, Kalus didn’t fight her.

“Go downstairs and wait with the hybrids. You will not leave the premise, and you will allow no one to take you.” Sean was moving before Klaus stopped speaking, his steps loud on the wood floors.

It wasn’t until the door shut, his tread heavy on the stairs, that she slowly released him. “Thank you.”

In the distance, she finally heard the first call of a horn. They’d picked up the scent. Her heart leapt into her throat, fingers tightening their grip. Around her, the air started to turn static, the ends of her hairs moving in an unseen wind.

Klaus’ mouth shifted into a sinful smile, dimples cutting deep. “You can thank me later.”

The tease in those words, the barely hidden innuendo pulled her out of her alarm with a jolt, and then his fangs cut deeply into his wrist and he was offering her the bleeding wound.

Taking a deep breath, her stomach dipping for entirely different reasons this time, she gripped his arm, brought it to her face, and licked. The shock of it was something she didn’t have words for, his blood far more potent straight from the vein. In the distance the sounds of horns grew louder, the pressure causing her ears to pop painfully.

Close. The Hunt magic was so close. It tasted of her father and rage, of a victory she had no intention of allowing. Closing her eyes, Caroline sank the sharp points of her canines into the wound he’d made for her, and drank until the world was drowned out by the a different rushing in her ears, until her magic felt bloated, her senses reeling in the taste and feel of Klaus. She drank until she felt like one more drop would send her spiraling. Inside her, the invisible string pulled taunt and started to fray. One blood-bind, overrun by another. She swayed, lost in the howl of the wolf song in her veins, gluttoned on the magic and blood.

Releasing his wrist with her breath ragged in her throat, she couldn’t find her feet.

Warm fingers settled along the curve of her nape and urged her forward. Somehow she ended up with her face pressed into the slope of Klaus’ shoulder. Fingers bunching in his shirt, she let the feel of him anchor her to the present when her body wanted to fly. All around her the world wavered and shimmered behind her eyelids, and distantly, she knew that part of it was the hunt magic breaking and flowing around her like a rock in a stream.

Her ears hurt with the pressure of it, the howling winds of impotent rage that rushed by her. The horn sounded all around her, the pounding of hooves on wood and gravel, magic warping the very air around her. But the Hunt couldn’t grasp onto her with its sticky fingers, not when she was so full of Klaus. It howled its rage, but just as quickly as it came, it disappeared.

The quiet would have felt cold if not for Klaus.

Caroline pressed closer to the bone and muscle of him to try to center herself. She was drunk on hybrid blood and adrenaline, and in her chest the blood-bind to her father was frayed to near breaking. One more mouthful, and she would have broken completely.

She couldn’t drink another drop and not burst.

Frustration pulsed through her at the thought of being _so close_ to _freedom_ , but unable to take that last, agnozising step. She could already feel her magic struggling to contain the maelstrom of what had created Klaus in her veins. Too much power, a deluge after a drought.

She needed to syphon the worst of it off.

Shuddering through another pulse of power digging into her bones, she slapped at Klaus’ shoulder with her hand, struggling to find the capacity to form words. “Bite.”

Beneath her, Klaus’ muscles tended. “Sweetheart…”

Curling her fingers into fist, she put a little more force into the next punch at the endearment. He caught her hand, brought her trembling fingers to his mouth. His breath was hot and damp against her skin, his breathing unsteady. Knowing that this sharing wasn’t just affecting her, but him, brought her a little bit more into her skin.

Pressing her face harder into the curve of his shoulder, she grunted as her body jolted, her Fae magic struggling to process everything she’d eaten. She spoke slowly into his neck once it was over, carving the words from her brain onto her tongue. “Too much. Too _much_. Drink.”

Her voice cracked on the last word, her trembling limbs beginning to shake in truth. Klaus made a low, soothing noise, lips brushing against the curve of her knuckles. As her fingers gradually relaxed, he skimmed his mouth down her palm before pressing an open mouthed kiss to the cluster of veins at her wrist, the rasp of his tongue an unexpected sensation that left her overly warm. Anticipation flipped in her stomach like butterflies, and then his fangs sank easily into her veins.

She gasped, and he made a low, pleased noise that set her nerves on fire. Shuddering at the first mouthful he took, the way she could feel her magic inside him, just a little, her nails dug into his side through his shirt. Had it felt this way for him? Not a binding in the way she knew it but something more. Something better.

Flushed and starting to sweat, she struggled not to pant against his skin. Inside her, the Fae magic that never gave gracefully into anything chased the slow beat of his heart, the rasp of his tongue, until the magic tore open between them.

The thread that was the last tether of her father shredded under the onslaught, and the sting of magic being torn asunder disappeared under the wash of _wolf_ , the howl loud in her ears. For the first time in her life she took a clean breath, and drowned.

* * *

Around them the air flickered with sparks of fading magic, the strange warping of the room he’d witnessed only moments before nearly impossible to believe had happened at all. He wasn’t one to doubt his senses, but the echoing clacking of horses he could not see but smell, the shuddering screams as they failed, that final blaring of the horn? He’d remember this and he’d ensure it would never happen again. The Fae were not allowed to take what belonged to him: not his people, his territory or Caroline.

But for the moment, there was quiet.

Eyes heavy lidded and watchful, Klaus licked the healing bites on Caroline’s wrist, her ragged breaths damp against his collarbones. She’d gone soft and limp against him, everything about her screaming exhaustion even with his blood in her veins, and he found he was loathe to move her. The taste of her Fae blood was so very sweet, and the feel and taste of her soothed the feral edges of his wolf, and inflamed the man.

A mate found after years of searching.

 _His_ mate.

A walking, living representation of his heart’s weakness. Lips curling in a self-deprecating smile, he tried to decide what he felt. He wasn’t a man for deep introspection into his own feelings, rarely did he let anyone close enough to scratch the surface of his existence. The number of times he’d considered the reality of this, that he’d contemplated the possibility of cutting the connection between them, of carving it from his chest by the root if necessary was not a singular number.

He’d been a fool.

The grip of his wolf, Caroline’s own magic, had burrowed under his skin with such surprising swiftnessness. The tie between them wasn’t a delicate string, but rope made of spider silk and blood. This pretty Fae with her sharp words and spine made of steel belonged to him, and the question he needed to answer was to himself what he would do about it.

The tie between them would not be easily sundered. It would be easier to hold her at arm's length. To take what she offered, to learn just enough to satisfy his own needs but to offer little in return. But even that was a lie in his own mind, when Klaus could already feel how unfathomable the depths of his want for her could become. The potential for what they could be had never before outweighed the risks of what she meant for him. With her arrival, with her very warm blooded existence, that had changed.

Now that he had her, he’d bloody the world to keep her. He was a deeply possessive man. He wanted her to want him just as much.

Carefully, he eased her wrist away from his mouth, examining the dark bruise maring her skin. Already the edges were fading, and he had no doubt the bite marks would disappear entirely in a manner of minutes, leaving my only the blood still smeared from his earlier grip. Fae healed quickly if given the chance, and with so much of his blood in her system, she’d heal that much faster. She’d already stopped shaking, her body soft and pliant against his as she recovered.

Assured she’d come to no lingering harm, he studied the woman in his arms. Tucked against him as she was, he could just make out the graceful arch of an ear, the most prominent of her Fae features. Her coloring was fair but human, likely a match for her mothers. But the angle of her cheekbones, the delicate shape of her face spoke clearly of her father.

For all of his obsession with the possibilities of her existence, a half-Fae mate was unexpected. He found he wished for a quiet moment and his sketchbook. How long would it take for him to perfect on paper, and later paint, the alien features that so fascinated him?

This obsession would be no easy thing to sate.

And, he thought, neither would she.

Her prickliness, the hot flashes of temper she’d shown earlier told him it might take a bit of coaxing to convince her to sit for him and the idea of a challenge intrigued him. Any mate that fate could possibly have given him would need teeth of her own to survive, and pretty little Caroline had bared hers with delightful ferociousness.

Blunt, _human_ teeth.

He turned that thought over in his mind, considering. Her canines had been slightly more elongated than humans, but hardly sharp as they’d dug into his wrist. A handicap, if she needed blood to survive. His little Fae was a predator, but humanity held a great deal of sway over her bones.

_I’ve never tried to take more blood than what you’ve already given me tonight._

Klaus frowned. She'd existed on mere mouthfuls when it was clear she could ingest far more, likely needed more, and he wondered if her avoidance came from a very human revulsion of what she was _._ Just how much would she need to unlearn about her own survival?

They’d need to experiment to learn just how much blood she needed to optimize her magic. Caroline had shown reluctance to share blood, but this was an argument he planned to win. He looked forward to it, even. There was strength in his Caroline. Even poisoned by iron and clearly exhausted, he’d seen it.

And such will.

Sean had declared that defying a Fae Father, the Queens, an impossibility yet Caroline clearly had. A Wild Hunt was not called for a small matter, and it was becoming clear that his mate was tangled thoroughly in tonight’s events. He did not believe in coincidences, and Caroline had given him more than enough information to put a number of pieces together.

All one had to do was know where to look.

Smoothing his thumb along the calloused flesh of her palm, he studied the slender line of her fingers. The practical nails, cut short and neat, but painted a pretty, shimmering pink. The dichotomy of it fascinated him as did the scar near the knuckle on her right index finger. He wanted the history of it all. All of her preferences.

Most particularly, he wanted to know about the red rust of dried blood that she hadn’t quite managed to clean from beneath her thumb nail and along otherwise perfect cuticles. Tyler’s blood. Whatever magic had hidden her wound had also covered the smell of his dead hybrid’s blood. He hadn’t noticed the scent of it until after she’d dropped it, showing him her true face.

The stab wound on her side.

Caroline didn't strike him as anything but methodical, and it intrigued him that she would leave such evidence behind. From her behavior downstairs, it was clear that she hadn’t expected him to know of the existence of her people. It was likely then, that she’d thought her magic would protect her from his awareness. And it could have, he grudgingly allowed, for her magic and behavior had been far more clever than the others. If not for the fact that she was his mate, she might have slipped through his fingers yet again. He bared his teeth at the thought. Any chance of escaping him had long since disappeared.

Bringing her hand to his mouth, he skimmed a kiss along the pads of her fingers, lips tilting at the sigh that brushed against his neck. This need to touch, to assure himself of her care was not one that would settle gently inside him but he found he fed it nonetheless. His Caroline had such delicate, dangerous hands. They’d flared with power earlier, when she’d dropped her glamour and Klaus wondered what they’d look like, curled around his cock, the shimmering shade of polish a contrast against his skin. It was an idea to be explored.

Tonight, if he was lucky.

His already aroused cock moved to half-mast at the thought, and he exhaled slowly, tamping down the heat in his blood. Unfortunately, there were a number of secrets that needed to be discussed before he could see just what whims she’d be willing to indulge. Tyler’s death. Her father. And, he supposed, in the fairness of sharing, of building on what they’d started, the truth of what connected them. She’d already indicated she knew he had more information than he’d given. He was not a man who explained himself easily, but he was certain what bound them would not allow anything else.

Frustrating, but not unexpected.

Some of those conversations would need to be had here. Not an ideal location, but it guaranteed their privacy. He had every intention of coaxing her back to his hotel, but once he did the chances of being discovered increased significantly. Kol would eventually return from his witch hunt, and once he learned of her existence, such quiet would be near impossible.

He could already see the nuisance his siblings would make of themselves. Elijah would insist on an uncomfortable family dinner as soon as possible for a proper introduction. A ridiculously formal affair that would undoubtedly come with a dress code and familial advice. He was in no rush to deal with his siblings and their biting words over dinner with Caroline, the deliberate taunts.

It had been a few decades since he’d had to dagger anyone. Perhaps it was time to dig them back out, remind his family of a few things. A few years without his siblings interference as he learned to handle the complications Caroline had brought with her might be best. Klaus sighed. He could already hear Elijah’s disapproving speeches.

He pressed his cheek against the top of Caroline’s head, breathing in the lingering scent of her shampoo and sweat, the bitingly sharp scent of her magic. Maybe he’d just confiscate the family jet and take her somewhere his siblings would have a difficult time finding. He still had a few surprises tucked away, after all.

At the very least, he would need to determine where she wished to live. He had not purchased a home in Chicago, preferring to live from hotels as he moved around the US, but that would likely need to change. The privacy a home would give them would be necessary to create boundaries with his family.

Against him, Caroline began to stir, a faint noise catching in her throat. Running his hand down the fall of her hair, his lips curved as her nose pressed a little more firmly into his shoulder. Klaus kept his voice low as he spoke, not quite willing to break the peace between them just yet. “Alright, love?”

The curl of the hand against his side, the slightest bite of nail cutting through the thin fabric of his shirt. “What did I say?”

Her words were rough, but far more alert than the slurred orders to drink she’d managed earlier. Good. “Habit, I’m afraid. I’m sure there will be a number of them that you will loathe.”

She pushed herself up, wavering, before she steadied herself with a palm on his chest. He felt the punch of that touch like she’d branded him, and he clenched his teeth to refrain from demanding she slid her palm under his shirt instead. His blood lingered in the corner of her mouth, and he didn’t trust himself to _only_ lick it away. A thousand years, and he’d never felt less in control. His jaw clenched tightly.

“Habit? I don’t know how I feel about you calling other women _love_.” Caroline said slowly as her head tilted towards him, a line forming between her brows. Her disquiet was easy to read, and perversely, soothed his own temper.

“Jealous?” The ideal appealed. “I don’t mind.”

A snort, brows lowering over irritated eyes. “I am _not_ jealous of imaginary women.”

“Pity,” he said blithely, just to watch her gaze flash. Caroline certainly did not react as a woman unaffected. His lips curled as she looked away from him, the hand against his side fisting. “I am not so civilized. The idea of you touching anyone leaves me wanting to dismember them.”

Her lips parted in surprise at his blunt words, teeth catching briefly on her lip. Deciding he had no wish to speak to her profile, he slid his hands beneath the firmness of her thighs, easily lifting her into a far superior position. She made a high noise of surprise as he helped her arrange her legs more comfortably against his hips. Her face turned delightfully pink as she’d realized the state of his cock, but he could read no true rebuke, only a flash of the bone deep need that gripped him.

Satisfied that she wanted him as he wanted her, he reached for her hand again, settling his other palm low on her waist. It was a strain, not to tug her hips closer to his own, to coax her into moving against him. Later, he had every intention of teasing her into any number of positions.

Tilting her wrist so the light highlighted the blood lingering beneath her nails, he spoke as if they had never paused. “I find myself most curious, Caroline. What part did you play in Tyler Lockwood’s death?”

“What?”

Underneath his palm, he could feel the way her abdominal muscles tensed, but her face stayed impressively composed if still delightfully flushed. Lazily, he pressed a kiss to the base of her thumb. “You can deny it if you wish, but ultimately it’s pointless. I can smell him, I have tasted him on your skin.”

Those blue eyes sparked, all that stubborn will coalescing behind her gaze. “How do you know what he tastes like?”

Klaus deliberately misunderstood. “His blood is beneath your nails, is it not?”

The look she gave him could have cut glass and he was hard pressed to hide his amusement. He did not wish her to think he was laughing at her, and he was certain she would not believe him if he told her he found her temper delightful.

“Seriously? And are you intimately acquainted with the blood type of _all_ your hybrids?”

Klaus let his delight at her biting words show through, even knowing it would continue to bait her temper. Releasing her hand, he ran a fingertip down the jut of her angled chin. “Jealousy suits you.”

He could hear the grind of her teeth, the flush of color high on her cheeks more temper than arousal, and just as lovely. Satisfied, he settled a little more comfortably into the booth. He’d make it up to her later.

“You are _such_ an ass.”

“Perhaps.” He gave a dismissive shrug. “But you have not answered my question.”

“And you haven’t answered mine,” Caroline said flatly. Fingers curling in her lap, she glared at him. “What makes you think he is dead?”

“Someone found his head floating charmingly down the river. Your work?”

She blinked. “They found his head floating down the river… at _night_?”

Pleased by the quickness of her mind, Klaus tipped his head in agreement. “I have sent my brother to ferret out the exact circumstances behind the discovery. Kol’s tactics are… messy, but thorough. He should have a number of answers for us when he returns.”

Nose wrinkling, something very much like awareness behind her eyes, she shook her head. “I had nothing to do with Tyler ending up in the river.”

Klaus smoothed his fingertips down the delicate bones of her clavicle as he considered the way she said his hybrid's name. Familiar and without hesitation, a soft grief in her words he did _not_ like. Goosebumps chased across her skin, and he smiled, small and pleased. “But did you kill him?”

Her expression turned wary, and he was certain only her position on his lap, the hand curved at her hip, kept her where she was at. But then her gaze turned challenging, mouth firming. “What if I did?”

“Tyler has long been a thorn in my side.” Klaus murmured, fingertips stroking her skin. “It's rather clear that he has been making new friends. Your father, perhaps?”

A pause, her eyes uneasily searching his face. “What do you think you know of my father?”

“Not nearly enough. Fae of unknown allegiance and power. Likely higher up in a court if he sent the Hunt after you.” He studied her carefully blank face. “Sean was certain that only a Queen could send a Hunt. But that isn’t the case, is it?”

Caroline blew out a breath, palm settling against his abdomen. He wasn’t sure she had noticed that she’d reached for him. “You really shouldn’t know as much as you do.”

“Water under the bridge, don't you think?”

Her laugh was bitter and it set his teeth on edge. “No such thing with a Queen or my father. But I suppose it won’t matter. They now know I am here, with you. They’ll blame me for anything you know. They’d never believe two of my kind slipped their net.”

“And just how do they know of your presence here?” Klaus asked, mentally noting the calls he would need to make. Her father and the Queens would not be allowed to touch her. “I was under the impression the Hunt failed.”

Her lips compressed, clearly debating on what to tell him and Klaus struggled to maintain an air of patience. If he could have dug beneath her skin and rooted her secrets out, he would have. This waiting on her, letting her decide what she would tell him, it grated, but instinct told him to do otherwise would ruin what they had before it began. And his wolf scored his bones at the thought.

So he bit his tongue and tried not to snarl.

“I told you about the blood-bind,” Caroline said finally. “About my father.”

“Yes.”

“When I drank your blood…” she started, the line reappearing between her brows as she tried to find the words. She finally huffed out a sigh. “This will not make your ego any less insufferable.”

He smiled at her, slow and pleased as he considered where she might be going with her words. “Did my blood break it?”

Caroline rolled her eyes upwards in a clear bid for patience. “Arrogant.”

Amused, he leaned closer and nudged the line of her jaw with his chin. “But am I wrong?”

“Yes,” she muttered, fingers lifting to skim the scruff of his cheek, voice softening. “And no.”

He arched a brow in a silent question as she leaned back to study him. “I… have a friend. A witch. We have spent years working on my father’s bind. Years. Your blood compounded on what we’d already managed and it… thinned what was already weak. I don’t know how else to describe it.”

Klaus narrowed his eyes at the word witch. “Can he still track you?”

“He stopped being able to track me years ago,” Caroline corrected, hand rubbing at her breastbone with an expression that held a hint of wonder. “But it wasn’t until you took my blood that it broke.”

His claim had replaced it. The knowledge was instinctive, a bone deep understanding that brought a surge of satisfaction. Klaus considered that, debated how much he wanted to tell her.

Later.

Instead, he directed her back to the important bit. “Will he be able to send another Hunt after you?”

Her head shook slowly. “In theory, no. Certainly not easily if he can. I’ll need B… I’ll need to double check it.”

His gaze narrowed her words. The way she’d caught herself. _More_ secrets. Caroline clearly saw his displeasure and chose to ignore it.

“But what he _will_ know is that my cousins chased me here to this place rumored to be yours, that the Wild Hunt came through this building, and I escaped.”

The Hunt _had_ failed. If he had been in her father’s position he would have come to the same conclusion: Caroline had sought help and clearly found it. He would never guess why Klaus had helped her, not yet, so that left information on the table.

She suddenly glared at him, fingers curling into a fist against him. “I shouldn’t be admitting this to you even if Sean would have told you some of it. Do you understand what they will do when they find out? Just how angry they will be that I even suggested your blood can break us free?”

“It is possible you are a special case.”

Caroline laughed painfully. “That won’t matter at all. You were to never know of our existence, not until they were ready for war. And here I am, spilling secrets. I shouldn’t trust you with any of this.”

To help her. To protect her. To keep her secrets safe. The unspoken words hung heavy between them and he found he didn’t like it. Careful, aware of how tightly she’d coiled herself, he kept his voice low.

“But you do.” He couldn’t completely hide his satisfaction in those words, his wolf’s smugness. She shoved her loosened hair away from her face, gaze bright with temper.

“It makes no sense. I am _not_ a trusting person. Even if I’ve wanted...” Her words closed on a snap and she glared at him in challenge. Klaus decided she’d finish that sentence for him before the night was over, mind considering any number of delightful ways to ensure it. “I have _no_ _rational_ _reason_ to trust you.”

She would not find one. There was nothing rational in what was between them. “I too, am not a man who trusts readily. And yet, here you are, sweetly sitting on my lap and exchanging secrets after exchanging blood. You cannot imagine I allow just anyone this privilege?”

Her expression turned razor sharp with a mix of disgust and that delightful jealousy he wanted her to display far more openly. “I can imagine you’d do any amount of debauchery for information and then snap necks and collect hearts, literally, the next day.”

“I’ll make no apologies for what I am,” Klaus said bluntly. Lifting her hand, he kissed her fingertips. “But cliche or not, this _is_ different, and I am more than willing for any debauchery you may have in mind.”

Another eye roll, a hint of a smile. “That’s ridiculous. It’s even more ridiculous that I believe you.”

“Something we will discuss later, in detail, I am sure.” Klaus had no doubt she’d have a great number of questions, but tonight he intended to move their discussions in a direction a bit more… physical. She shifted on his lap, as if she could guess, and he slid his tongue between his teeth at the feel of her.

His patience would not last much longer.

Her face turned suddenly suspicious, even as her pulse throbbed in her throat as her eyes darted towards his lap, and then quickly back to his face. “And what could be a more important topic?”

He couldn’t help the pleased curve of his mouth. He did so enjoy how quick she was to catch on to a bit of underhandedness even as he caught the first real hint of her arousal. He nearly groaned.

 _Patience_.

“Tell me, Caroline, when did you spend time in Mystic Falls?”

She flinched, the barest of movements, but with her so close to his cock, he noticed every shift of muscle. “What?”

“You spoke of Tyler as a familiar, not a stranger, love.” He added the endearment deliberately, determined he would not be the only one annoyed. That Tyler had likely known her first, even if he had not known who she was to Klaus, did not sit well. “That tells me you have a history, and I have no record of anyone with your description as having come into contact with him since he became a hybrid. That means your knowledge of him predates his change, which makes sense, as I find it unlikely even your father could bypass the nets I surrounded my first hybrid in.”

“You do understand how a glamour works, do you not?” Caroline arched an imperious brow. “I can look however I want. And Bebe if that wasn’t the case, you actually want me to believe you know everyone that Tyler has ever had a conversation with? Ever? Seriously?”

“Yes.”

She scoffed. “That’s a bit much, even for _you_.”

Unperturbed by her derision, he caught a loose curl and wound it along his knuckle, studying the blonde shade of it. “Not at all. Have you never heard of Katerina?”

A small shake of her head, something unhappy crossing her features. “No.”

The thought that she had researched him and was as annoyed at her lack of knowledge as he was regarding her was pleasing.

“That is not entirely surprising. The supernatural community does like to forget what I am capable of. It lets them sleep at night I suppose, though it does dramatically shorten their life expectancy.” He released the curl, watched it spring back up. “Dear Katerina was my vampire sacrifice when I broke my curse, but before that, she betrayed me. So I spent a leisurely five hundred years ruining her life for it. She went nowhere without my knowledge, and every few years, perhaps even decades in between meetings, I’d show up and ruin anything she’d dared come to care for.”

Caroline’s fingers pressed into the muscle of his abdomen for a moment, and she visibly swallowed. “Five hundred years?”

“Yes. Though what I had planned for Tyler would have taken considerably longer. A certain line of witches who have been loyal to me for many generations now has specialized in tracking spells. From the moment Tyler left Mystic Falls until the sacking of New Orleans, I knew his every movement, his every interaction, his every breath.” Klaus held her eyes and let her see the truth of his words, the truth of him. “He never managed to stray too far. The sire bond pulled too strongly for that, you see. There was nothing his wolf wanted more than to return to his Alpha.”

Caroline tucked her lip between her teeth for several long heartbeats, but he could smell no fear on her. Just a soft unease and the undertones of arousal that had turned her cheeks pink. “Bill would never have helped Tyler if you could so easily track him.”

Something niggled at the back of his mind at the word _Bill_. Gaze narrowing, he studied the fine lines of her features, the fair coloring. Mentally recalled everything he knew about Mystic Falls. “When New Orleans fell, Tyler disappeared.”

She made a thoughtful noise, gaze drifting to the right of his shoulder as she considered his words. “That might have worked.”

Intrigued, he lightly pressed a finger to her chin and drew her gaze back to him. “What might have worked?”

Caroline pushed his hand away and looked as if she did not enjoy the directions of her thoughts. “Bill could have used what you did in New Orleans as a chance to help Tyler slip your net. But how would he have known to be ready for it? That kind of spell would take knowledge and forewarning. Someone would have had to have helped them, but who?”

It was something Klaus would spend considerable resources finding the answer to. But that would start tomorrow. “I was not subtle with my intentions once the covens were fingered in their ridiculous baby plot.”

It had not taken him long to destroy New Orleans. A matter of hours. It had taken longer for the city to realize the full breadth of its destruction, _days_ to stop the hemorrhaging.

“But…” Caroline shook her head. “That doesn’t make any sense. Why would you need a child? That’s far more a…”

Irritation sharpened his words at her pause. The way she stopped herself, _again_. “Come now, Caroline. There isn’t much point in keeping that thought to yourself, is there? Not now. Would you like me to guess?”

She raised a hand between them and jabbed him in the arm, glowering. “I can keep whatever I want to myself. You _don’t_ get to dictate.”

His jaw clenched, and he returned her ire. “Even if it means potentially leaving me unaware of my enemies plots?”

He knew his words had scored a direct hit by her flinch, satisfying him on multiple levels. She might not yet be willing to admit to the same possession that grated his bones, but she felt it. Good. He had no intention of suffering alone.

“I could really hate you.”

Klaus shrugged. “I’ll make it up to you.”

“I imagine we have different ideas of making up.” Her words were gritted out between clenched teeth, but she continued. “Obsession over children is a Fae weakness, not a vampires.”

“So it is.” Head tipping, he studied the set of her mouth, the way her thighs had tightened just a fraction against his sides. Fear wasn’t a look he had found he wanted to see on her face, but he didn’t mind the hint of nerves, the way she licked along her bottom lip. “Tell me. Just how long has your father known my Hybrid?”

The nerves visibly disappeared under the hot flash of temper at the bite in his voice. Leaning forward until her forehead nearly touched his, Caroline growled at him. “How many times do I have to repeat myself? I am _not_ a minion.”

“No you’re not,” he agreed, tempted to bite the curve of her lower lip at her audacity. “You’re mine. And you know it, so this reluctance has no point. You’ll tell me everything I want to know eventually.”

Caroline leaned back and rubbed at her forehead, jaw clenched. Slowly, she exhaled and gave him a flat look that said she thought she’d figured his tactics out. “Stop trying to piss me off.”

He shrugged unapologetically. “Perhaps you should answer my questions then.”

“Stop being a dick and maybe I will.”

“Avoiding my questions is pointless.” He said pleasantly enough. “Delaying won’t make me forget what I asked, sweetheart. Tell me about your father.”

She opened her mouth, closed it, and grimaced. Intrigued, he searched his memory for every single detail he had learned about Mystic Falls. He hadn’t paid too much attention to what had happened before his arrival, but that was easily fixed. He still had the reports.

“Bill…” he murmured thoughtfully, thumb rubbing along the curve of her hip bone. “There were three Bill’s in Mystic Falls.”

Caroline sighed, something old and painful settling behind her eyes. “He wasn’t one of them. Your reports would have listed him as dead.”

Klaus’ gaze sharpened. “Would they have?”

She nodded, eyes searching his face. Finally, she glanced away, and when she spoke her words were soft. “William Forbes, married to Elizabeth Forbes. She was the town Sheriff. He would have been listed as dead seven years before her, and no one would have said otherwise. Compelled or not.”

He remembered Sherriff Elizabeth Forbes. The little bench tucked away in the tiny town square, the set to the Bennett Witch’s mouth the one time Kol had nearly damaged it. So many pieces were coming together. “Elizabeth was your mother.”

A short nod, though it hadn’t been a question.

Carefully, he nudged her chin up with his fingers. Her eyes were defiant as she stared right back. Lips curling, he let his tone dip. “You're the reason the Bennett witch has disappeared. Why she only responds to specific job requests. She has been helping you work against Bill.”

It wasn’t a question.

“Bonnie Bennett is my friend,” Caroline said cooly, the haunting sadness shoved back by a flash of possession that he wanted directed towards _him_. “She was mine long before _you_ showed up.”

There were so many _interesting_ possibilities now that he understood what had been keeping his witch busy, so many questions he would have answered. The connection between Tyler and Caroline, how his little Fae had located Tyler in Chicago before Klaus had known of his presence. How _Ms. Bennett_ had known to text him. Who it was who had likely tried to reach Caroline earlier, and the unknown witch who was helping her.

All the same person.

So many pieces were fitting together beautifully.

It wouldn’t take much to dig up the rest of it, he was sure. And yet, he found that he had no more patience for the interrogation. Caroline was caught up in schemes that had always been tangled with his own, and it satisfied him that she’d always been moving towards his orbit. The rest they could hash out in the morning, he decided, after he’d satisfied other, more primal needs. Tonight they would be safe enough until he could gather a few more protections.

“We will be discussing that later,” he warned her softly, hand sliding lower on her hip to dig his fingers into the jean clad curve of her ass, sliding her hips closer to his. “Several things, actually.”

Her eyes widened, fingers tangling in his shirt. “That’s it? Your just… going to let that go?”

The heavy disbelief in Caroline’s tone, the twist of her mouth told him she grasped the nuances of the situation as well as he did. She knew enough to be wary of his temper, and she’d killed Tyler anyway. Such a fierce little thing, for all of her blunt teeth.

Klaus dragged his finger down the fabric between her breasts, watching the way it clung on her next inhale. “Temporarily.”

She caught his hand with what he was certain was supposed to be a disapproving look for his lack of explanation. “You are not known for being particularly reasonable or merciful. You said so yourself, you do not tolerate betrayal.”

Klaus was pleased she understood that.

“Did Ms. Bennett betray me?”

“No,” Caroline murmured, breath catching in her throat as his hand spread wide beneath the curve of her breasts, fingertips not quite touching the band of her bra. A fine shiver ran across her skin, that lovely pink flush darkening on her cheekbones. “But do you believe me?”

“Ah, but see, in this, I must. We are both trapped in this madness, and you’ll find that lying to me is no easy thing.” His gaze lowered, settled on the hummingbird quickness of her pulse. Tongue dragging along his lip, he flicked his back to hers, let a hint of challenge enter his voice. “But what I am feeling is hardly _merciful_ , Caroline.”

Not wanting for an answer, he bent his head and licked over her pounding pulse.

* * *

All of Caroline’s frustration at Klaus’ arrogance, the temper he’d so delighted in rubbing raw, disappeared in a rush of white hot arousal at the first velvet swipe of his tongue. He’d been touching her with curious fingertips since he’d pulled her more fully onto his lap, and her body had been highly aware of the very noticeable erection he’d made absolutely no attempt to hide. Shuddering as Klaus used his human teeth to bite along her shoulder, she faintly heard seams pop as she twisted his shirt tightly between her fists.

His stupidly lickable mouth curved against her skin. “Does my shirt offend you, Caroline? I don’t care if you rip it and I leave here shirtless, but you didn’t seem to like the idea of sharing earlier.”

She didn't want to share _at all._ The idea of having this man as _hers_ , of digging her claim so deep into his skin it couldn’t budge, of having something that belonged to just _her_ after all these years stole her breath and left her feeling reckless. Hers. _Just_ hers. It was the memory of that near violent claiming earlier, that surge of magic and possession, that brought her up short. It would be so easy to pull his shirt from his body and drown herself in the feel and taste of him.

And then what?

Caroline wanted him with a fierceness that dug into her bones, her body was definitely onboard for what he was offering, but she wanted to know _why_. She needed to understand this draw because it would be no easy thing to walk away from. He wouldn't be easy to leave, this monster who touched her with bloody fingers.

Pausing, as if he sensed the sudden shift in her mood, Klaus glanced up at her and ran the tip of his tongue along his lip. “No?”

“You,” she started, pausing to swallow at how dry her throat had become. The slick fullness of his mouth was distracting, and she pressed her fingers to his lips to stop herself from pressing hers there instead. “Are a menace.”

His tongue snaked across her fingertip and she pulled her hand away quickly to avoid any more temptation. “Sweetheart, I haven’t even tried yet.”

A shudder ran down her spine and Caroline pressed her hands flat against the taut muscles beneath her palms. “Well, _trying_ won’t be happening until you explain a few things.”

A curve of his lips and he leaned back, somehow turning the entirety of his body into a loose limbed invitation she only had to reach out to take. Glancing up at her through his lashes, his dimple caught on one side of his smile. “I’m at your disposal.”

One day, she was going to bite that smirk and watch it bleed. Inhaling sharply through her nose, Caroline glanced around. She needed distance between them before she took up on the offer his body was making her. “I think I'm going to need that drink now.”

His laugh was soft, but he obligingly helped shift her off his lap. His hands slid beneath her thighs and lifted her in an easy flex of muscle that tested her resolve. “I hope you don’t mind Bourbon. I’m afraid that was the only bottle I requested, and I don’t feel like sharing you just yet. Even for a delivery.”

She glanced at his face to gauge his seriousness after she righted herself, knees thankfully holding, and found the wolf watching her. They stared at each other, the connection between a live wire and she found herself also unwilling to break this strange bubble they had found themselves by inviting someone else in. Even if it meant better booze.

Bourbon was _not_ her favorite but spirits, how she needed a drink. Clearing her throat, Caroline forced herself to ignore her body’s clamoring to go back right to where she’d just been. “As long as it’s the good stuff and not that swill your barkeep was pretending was top shelf for the humans.”

Klaus unfolded himself from the table and sauntered to the bottle with amusement clear on his face. “Subpar booze? Heads have rolled for less. Ice?”

 _How_ could she want someone so badly who was _so arrogant._ “Sure.”

Sipping it would probably be smart as watching him move was doing terrible things to her blood pressure. So was the way he quickly rolled his sleeves towards his elbows. “You still owe me answers. So talk.”

A yellow gleam from beneath those lashes, as if gauging her stubbornness. Caroline had no idea why she found that charming. “If that’s what you want.”

She took her drink with a warning look. “It _is_.”

Klaus studied his glass for a moment, seemingly to collect his thoughts before glancing back at her. The wolf lingered at the edges of his iris, yellow against blue, and the wicked magnetism of him eased just a little. “I suppose we should start with werewolves then. Specifically, werewolf magic.”

“Werewolf magic,” Caroline repeated, a line forming between her brows as she tried to think past the urge to forget the conversation and just touch him. “You mean other than the ability to transform into a wolf?”

“I do.”

She shook her head slowly, tried a careful sip of her drink. The quality was good, the liquid smooth as it burned down her throat. “I thought your magic was bound to you.”

A tip of his head, an unspoken question.

“Wolf magic is…” she tried to find the words. Not Fae magic. It wasn’t air and light and the cutting burn of the sun, the bite of green, growing things. It was earth and fur and the sharp edge of teeth. “As I understand it, wolf magic is tied to blood and marrow and muscle. All old magic, before Qetsiyah, was always cast that way, though a werewolf is unusual in that the debt to activate it is paid by someone else’s life.”

“Perhaps a warrior's life was more valuable.”

She made a face. “Maybe. But maybe not. A werewolf gains supernatural strength, speed, the ability to shift to a second form, from prey into beast. You wouldn’t need to be a warrior to take advantage of those differences.”

“I doubt the witch who cursed her village cared much about who her spell infected.” Klaus said. “Revenge is not the… most practical of mindsets.”

Caroline blinked. “The… revenge? I suppose, but not against her people. She created the spell as a weapon in the war against the Fae. At least, that's what I was taught.”

Klaus looked intrigued. “So it’s not a curse.”

“Oh, it’s a curse,” she said with a shake of her head. “It’s terrible, old magic. During the time of the Fae, a simple spell wouldn’t have worked. It had to be inflicted on such a way it carried across generational lines. The seven families who agreed to it would have known exactly the cost of such a working and chosen it anyway.”

“I’m surprised your father would share such history,” he said slowly. “Particularly when it contradicts what every witch line teaches as their history.”

“Not really. He thought I was nothing but his tool for years. He hates werewolves nearly as much as he hates you. Have you never wondered why a vampire dies from a werewolf bite? Vampires were made long after them.”

“The working assumption is it has to do with how my mother created her spell.”

“So much truth mingled with falsehoods,” she murmured. “When my people choose to hide something, they always wrap a single truth in so many lies. Werewolf teeth disrupt magic, Klaus. They always have. For a vampire, for the Fae, that can be fatal.”

Klaus went motionless in front of her. “And you?”

“I haven’t heard of anyone but a full Fae dying to a werewolf, but I don’t usually volunteer to be bitten.” She studied his face, the careful violence he tucked into the corners of his eyes so well. The way he watched her. “But what does any of this have to do…” her hand fluttered between them, not quite willing to put it into words.

The draw that sang so strongly between them.

“With us?” He finished with a lifted brow. “While you are correct about werewolf magic being strongly bound to flesh, and I would be _most_ interested in your sources, there are two instances where that isn’t quite true.”

She ignored his implied question. It had taken her and Bonnie years to learn the true nature of werewolves, digging through the Bennett family’s collections of grimoires and endless notes. Qetsiyah hadn’t kept written records or if she had, they had been long since destroyed. Her descendents, however, had spent a great deal of time trying to understand how she had altered the balance of the world. What they had found was Bonnie’s to tell, not hers.

Klaus’ smile said he was willing to be patient.

“I don’t understand.” She said instead. “Magic doesn’t change easily. Werewolf magic wasn’t meant to be used outside the body.”

“No, it does not. But as you said yourself, werewolves disrupt magic. They do so most commonly through their bite. We call it werewolf venom now, but I’d be curious if it was always called so or even if it has mutated.” He studied her face, gaze thoughtful as if he could see the secrets beneath her skin. “The venom must enter the body of a vampire, and I assume a Fae, to work. It can even last for several years if stored properly away from the wolf who created it.”

Giving a thousand ways to be used against a vampire or a Fae. She wondered if Klaus had already thought that through, and grimaced. Of course he had. As soon as she admitted that weakness he’d probably already plotted a hundred ways to use it to his advantage.

Reluctantly, she sighed. “That could explain part of my father’s obsession with hybrids. If changing them in some way altered their magic…”

“Undoubtedly. Hybrids are stronger, more vicious than a normal werewolf. Their bite kills faster and with a great deal more pain, but they cannot reproduce.” He gave a small shrug. “Their number will always be finite. _I_ am the true threat.”

Caroline managed to refrain from rolling her eyes. Barely. “Uh huh. So do all hybrids’ have blood that heals the way yours does?”

“Hybrids, like vampires, have magical properties in their blood that blood even mortal wounds. A little gift for immortality that can be shared though it’s not a risk many lightly take. If you die with a single drop inside you, you’ll change into a vampire.” Klaus smiled, a sharp flash of teeth. “But they do not heal like I do. I’m the cure, you see. My blood neutralizes all werewolf venom, from my hybrids or otherwise.”

Caroline’s heart slammed into her throat. To neutralize the threat that her people feared, with his blood? The Queens would never let him free if they ever caught him. They would bleed him, over and over, until eternity stretched endless along the drip of his blood.

“How many people know that?” Her voice rasped, fear a noose around her lungs.

He shrugged, unconcerned. “Some, I’m sure. But I don’t generally go around saving people.”

Caroline walked past him to stare down at the empty dance floor, teeth sliding hard against her lip. The floor had been cleaned, and she couldn’t see any of his hybrids below, but she had doubt they were there. She curled her fingers to hide the trembling from a fear she couldn’t put words too. Fear that was as irrational as the lust she hadn’t quite managed to entirely ignore. “You said there were two types of werewolf magic?

“So I did.” She turned to glare, happy for the distraction, and felt her breath catch instead as she watched him swallow his drink in two mouthfuls, the movement of his throat hypnotizing. That quickly, all the air went out of the room and her skin felt too tight.

Klaus met her gaze, and his tongue swept along his bottom lips before his mouth curved in something almost self deprecating. “What do you know of werewolf mates, sweetheart?”

“Mates,” Caroline repeated slowly, pulse pounding in her ears. The word rang true for her, the final piece of a puzzle she’d struggled to assemble for years. The need, the obsession, the absolute craving of his acknowledgement. The way her body lit up at the smallest, briefest of touches.

The absence of logic, where he was concerned.

Klaus set his glass down and walked closer, pausing only when he was close enough to touch, the warmth of his skin nearly palpable. He braced one hand next to her head and the pads of his fingers skimmed a soft line down her throat to linger in the hollow of her throat. “Mmm, yes.”

It seemed too good to be true, and she’d learned that such things always came with a price. “That seems unlikely.”

“While it’s certainly uncommon, it’s not nearly as _unlikely_ as I’d wish.”

“How can you be certain?” She motioned sharply between them. “This is… _something_ , but that just…” She wanted it too much.

His gaze lifted towards hers and the wolf watched her in the stillness behind his eyes. “How? Because from the very first moment of my transformation until we saw each other downstairs, my wolf scored by bones with a need I could not shake. I have searched you for decades with little but instinct and need as my guide. Because when you stood before me bleeding and hunted, when I had to choose to help or condemn, the only choice I could countenance was your survival. I saw your eyes downstairs, Caroline. Your body knows mine, your magic wants me just as much.”

Her mouth opened and closed, and she swallowed. Everything he said was true but… “I don’t want to be wanted just because of magic.”

The soft noise he made was indulgent. “But do you want _me_?”

Caroline placed a hand on his chest, fingers spreading to feel the slow thump of his heartbeat. Studying the rise and fall of his chest, she took a slow breath. He’d been honest with her. It was time for her to do the same. He wasn’t the only struggling with a need that dug into bone and marrow and burned. “I’ve wanted you since the first time I heard your name. I spent years picking through rumors about you to try to understand _why_. You’re an obsession I have no logical reason to want. You always have been.”

His knuckles tipped her chin gently upwards, and the triumph in his smile, the delighted _arrogance_ of him left her fingers curling against his chest. “Of course you want me; I’m _yours_. So why don’t you take me?”

Mine. Hers. Everything she’d wanted packaged with curls and dimples and fangs. _Take me_. She shuddered out a breath. She wanted to. Oh, _how_ she _wanted_. “We barely know each other.”

Not the truth of each other, not really. While she had no problem with using sex as a mere release, she knew that it would never be so so simple with this man. They would demand too much of each other.

Klaus shrugged, unconcerned. “That will come. I’m sure it will be a war of attrition as we learn about each other. I have not shared myself with another creature in eons.” His smile shifted, turning wicked with an invitation that left her pulse pounding. “But right now? I am far more interested in learning more pertinent, carnel details about you, love, than just how territorial you’ll be about closet space. The color of your nipples, the shade of your cheeks with you come. The very thought of watching you flush with orgasm captivates me. How you’ll _taste_. The feel of you wrapped around my cock. So many delightful, delicious secrets. Aren’t you at all curious about me?”

Caroline’s voice was a rasp of sound. “Yes.”

He pressed his forehead to hers, his voice thickening with a hint of gravel. “If you do not wish me to touch you here, say so now. Because my patience is in shambles, and you smell divine. I can have the car brought around at any time, and my hotel is not far. Tell me what you want.”

Caroline kissed him instead.

Fisting her hands into his hair, she slid her tongue along the lower lip that had _so_ distracted her, teeth following the slick slide. Klaus gripped her ass, pulling her roughly against him while his mouth opened against hers, the first stroke of his tongue tasting like blood and whiskey. The glass was cool against her spine as he pressed her against it, and Caroline pulled him closer, moaning as his hands urged her hips to move against his.

Pulling back, she dragged in lungful of air as Klaus slid his thumb against the point of her ear. She shuddered, whine catching in her throat, and he did it again with a pleased little smile. “Well experiment with your sensitivity here later. I think you on your hands as knees will put my mouth at the perfect angle.”

Rising up on her toes, Caroline hooked her thigh against his hip and rolled against the hard line of his cock. His lashes fluttered, and she pressed her lips to his throat, tongue stroking the cords of his neck for a taste. “I care about _now_.”

The feel of his groan against her mouth as she scraped her teeth against him had her smiling. She didn’t get to enjoy her tiny victory long, Klaus' hands sliding up the curve of her waist and ribs to cup her face. Lifting her face at his urging, she accepted the hot, hungry press of his lips before he _moved_.

Somehow Klaus untangled himself from her hold and spun her around so she was facing the mostly empty club before she could take a full breath. His hand slipped under the hem of her shirt, his hand splaying wide on her heaving abdomen until the edge of pinky brushed just along the band of her jeans. “It’s a pity, don’t you think, that we had to clear the floor? There is something to be said for taking you just like this, with so many oblivious dancers below. They’d smell us all over each other when we were leaving, assuming you’d allow that detail to remain inside outside your glamour.”

Her thighs clenched at the thought, the starkly possessive heart of her completely onboard, and she curled her shaky fingers around his wrist. “Is that how you want me? Here against the glass?”

“Tempting,” he mused.

Caroline dug in her nails. “Do you always spend this much time musing about sex instead of actually having it?”

His mouth brushed her ear, tongue warm and wet against the sensitive curve. Her hold on his wrist tightened, thighs clenching as she shuddered against him. “There is something to be said for having a plan, don’t you think?”

“What I _think_ is that you need to touch me,” she retorted breathlessly. “Or if you’re feeling shy, you need to move so that I can touch _you_.”

Klaus laughed softly against her ear, thumb gliding across the soft skin beneath her belly button. His other hand reached around her and slowly undid the single button on her jeans. “I want you out of these pants.”

“My boots might make that a little difficult.”

“I think we’ll keep the boots just as they are,” Klaus said thoughtfully hand dropping to run down her jean clad thigh. “I want to feel them when you wrap your legs around my waist.”

Caroline blinked and tried to get her arousal soaked brain to think. How was that going to work? “Huh?”

Klaus made another amused, indulgent noise. “I’m sure it’ll come to you.”

She bit her lip hard enough to burn as he began to slide down her zipper with teasing slowness. Her breasts felt heavy, her skin too hot and her breath shuddered in her throat. Hybrid. She was getting naked with a hybrid. Supernatural strength was a perk, and, she hoped, stamina.

“It’s cold outside. I’m not running around with my bare butt hanging out, glamour or not. _Klaus_.”

“I’ll make it up to you.”

Caroline snorted. “Do you realize just how many things you already have to make up to me? I’ve known you for less than an hour, and you’ve already promised me _several_ sexual favors as recompense; I’ve made a mental list. And, newsflash, I am currently sitting _zero_.”

Klaus laughed softly as he leaned forward and pressed his cheek against hers, head tipped just enough he could watch his hands as he smoothed his fingertips along the band of her lace panties. “Hmm, red. Does your bra match?”

“You’ll have to take my shirt off to find out.” Her words came out grumpy, and she felt his smile.

“Oh, I plan too. But first, just how _would_ you like to come?” His fingers skimmed lower, tracing the patterns on the lace with delicate fingertips. “Like this, pressed up against the glass and riding my fingers or spread out on one of the tables like a feast?” A single finger moved just inside the band of her underwear, stopping just above the throbbing nerves of her clit. “Both certainly have their appeal.”

They so did. Reaching back, she curled her fingers into his hair and ground her ass against his erection. In retaliation, he brushed his hand lower, bypassing her clit entirely to brush where she’d grown hot and slick, coating his fingertips in her arousal. “Caroline.”

She tightened her hold on his hair and sucked in a strangled breath. There had been a hint of an order in how he said her name, and she promised herself she’d get him back for that later. “Your mouth has a lot to make up for.”

His laugh was dark and then his hands were no longer touching her. She startled, fingers loosening their hold and then her feet left the ground. Klaus had somehow pulled his hand free of her pants and picked her up in a bridal hold before she managed to blink. As if she weighed nothing, and the casual use of his strength did something funny to her insides.

He paused there, holding her easily, and his eyes lifted to meet hers. With an expression stark with hunger, he shifted to hold her with one arm and licked the slick tips of fingers clean with a pleased little hum. “Excellent decision, love.”

The air turned overwarm and she leaned forward, pressing her mouth to his to lick her taste from his tongue. Klaus groaned low in his chest before spinning away from the glass, mouth still greedily pressed to hers and striding quickly towards one of the larger tables. He lifted his head, lips wet and red, before setting her carefully on her feet. Once she was steady, he shoved the unused silverware and menus to the side, and peeled his shirt over his head and spread it across the wood.

The unexpected sweetness stole her breath.

As did the ink stretched across his shoulder, the collection of leather and beads against his collarbones. She scowled when he caught her hand, stopping her from exploring the lines and curves of the tatoo. “Seriously?”

He bit at her fingertips. “Later. Take your shirt off.”

She pressed her lips together, gaze narrowed, but decided fair was fair. Tugging her hand free, she reached up and removed her hair tie, letting the shoulder length curls free. His eyes followed the tumble of her hair, gaze curious and greedy. Reaching into her back pocket, she switched her phone off and set it on the neighboring table. The text had been from Enzo, not Bonnie, and _he_ would forgive her for ignoring him for sex. She'd deal with it in the morning. Satisfied, only then she did do as he asked, removing her shirt and his gaze dropped immediately to the matching red and black lace of her bra. His lips curved and she shrugged. “The size of my boobs mean comfortable doesn’t have to be ugly.”

Klaus laughed again, bending his head to press a kiss right above the center clasp. “Your breasts are perfect. Next time you go shopping, you should take me along. I insist.”

She sorted, running a hand through his ruffled curls. Charming. This man could be so charming when he wasn’t being an arrogant ass. “ _May_ be.”

“I’ll just have to be convincing.” Another sucking kiss, and his hands settled on her hips, urging her back. She followed his direction, jumping onto the edge of the table. The Henley was soft under her thighs, protecting her from any potential splinters. Klaus dragged a chair over, and she widened her legs to make more room. How badly she needed to be touched, to touch him, made it impossible to feel self conscious.

The burn in his gaze made it worth it.

Klaus skimmed a slightly damp finger from her sternum down her trembling abdomen, eyes glittering with intent. “As pretty a vision as you make, these,” he tugged lightly at the band of her unbuttoned jeans. “ _Really_ must go.”

Something about the tilt of his mouth, the coaxing devilry had her leaning down to catch his mouth with hers. Klaus didn’t seem to mind, catching her tongue between his teeth before sucking it into his mouth, and she groaned. Klaus pulled back, tongue snaking across his wet lips, and his gaze dropped to her waist in a deliberate reminder.

“I thought you wanted my mouth on you?”

“Oh, _now_ you're eager,” she drawled breathlessly as she planted her hands on the table and helpfully lifted her hips. Klaus wasted no time in dragging the stretchy denim down her thighs. Then, his gaze holding hers and _full_ of devilment, shredded her jeans. She jerked in surprise, and he looked not the least bit apologetic as he pulled the last bits of her pants free of her boots with careful tugs.

“ _Klaus_!”

His smile was dimpled and lascivious in all the best ways as his hands settled on her bare legs. He shifted his chair closer, palms running down her sensitive inner thighs. “I did warn you, and I would hate for you to think I am anything less than _eager_. I do have a few promises to keep, and only so much patience. You’ll come on my tongue, Caroline, and then again, when I’m inside of you.”

Her response was lost in a sharp inhale as his mouth brushed along her knee. For all his words of limited patience, he took his time, mouthing along the firm muscle under his lips, dragging his teeth sharply where if his fangs dug in he’d find her artery. And all the while, she grew hot and even more damp under the skimming, teasing caresses of his fingertips on her underwear, until the fabric clung wetly.

“So _many_ promises,” she panted, fingers delving through his hair to fist in the curls. “But I would come much faster if you put your mouth somewhere far more interesting.”

Another sharp bite, and he brushed his mouth over the crease of her hip and thigh, tongue hot and wet against the seam of her panties. Gaze drifting over her flushed face, he tilted his head to drag his lips across the front of her. “Lay back, Caroline.”

She tugged lightly at his hair in warning, there were only so many orders she was willing to take. “Maybe I want to watch.”

His head tipped so that his eyes could hold hers, and there was intrigue there. “Do you like watching?”

“Yes.”

A tiny curve of his mouth. “My hotel room has an excellent mirror to go with its very comfortable bed.”

Her toes curled in her boots. “Are you inviting me back to your place?”

Klaus licked a wet line up her center, tongue warm even through the fabric that separated his mouth from her bare skin. “Invite? I’m in the mood to _insist_. A soft bed, room service, you completely naked.” He hummed against her, chin nudging against lace and she tugged at his hair, wanting more. “Was that a yes?”

It took a moment to comprehend what he was asking. “You haven’t actually _asked_ me anything.”

His breath puffed against her, eyes glittering. “I suppose I haven’t.”

Before she could work up a response to _that_ , Klaus finally, _finally_ shoved her underwear to the side and slid his tongue, broad and wet, across her aching clit. She didn’t care as seams stretched and popped, hunching over to watch as best she could as his tongue moved against her, two fingers slowly pressing inside her. Her fingers dug into the edge of the table, and she was certain her grip on his hair had to hurt, but she couldn’t loosen her hold as he explored her with a deft curiosity that had her eyes rolling.

Her moan was loud when his fingers found the perfect spot inside her and the strokes of his tongue tightened into circles that left her vision going hazy at the edges. She had no leverage to move against him sitting as she was but the way Klaus read her body, responding to every twitch, adjusting to every cry until she was a trembling mess was insane. Head bent over his, her abdomen quivering, she didn’t recognize the sound of her voice as she trembled on the edge of release.

She tugged at his curls, the high pitched whine of his name escaping her, and he sucked her clit between his lips, tongue lashing firmly against her. Her orgasm broke over her hard, her body pulling taut as she quivered through it. She reached for the smooth curve of his shoulder for balance as she panted and shivered through her release, breath harsh in her throat. Klaus smoothed her underwear back into place, wet lips curved with only a hint of triumph.

“I believe that’s _one_.”

Caroline choked on a breathless laugh. “You’re still in negative numbers here.”

Instead of responding to her tease, he stood in a smooth flex of muscle. Smoothing her hair back from her flushed face and he pressed his mouth to hers, thumb sweeping along her jaw as his mouth opened against hers. There was nothing polite about this kiss, open and wet and hungry, and she skimmed her hands down the lean lines of his chest to play with his belt buckle.

Lightening fast, he caught her hands. Caroline huffed out a breath, her glare more frustration than heat. “Are you seriously not going to let me make a move here?”

He kissed her palms. “I’ve no intention of coming in your hand this time. Later.”

Leaning forward, she caught his lip between her teeth and rubbed hard. “I’m putting it on your balance sheet.”

Klaus licked the sting and pressed her hands flat on the table. “Keep these here.”

Tipping her head, she narrowed her eyes. “Make it worth it.”

“I’m going to tie you to my bed,” he murmured, his hand moving to trail down the line of her throat, nails just scraping the skin. “I wonder how just long you'll be able sass me before you start to beg.”

Heat flushed through her, and she gripped the edge of the table. “Only if I get to tie you up afterwards.”

His smile was all teeth and dimples, and her gaze narrowed when he didn’t answer, his fingers trailing towards her bra instead. He deftly unhooked the clasp, his hand immediately moving to cup one breast, thumb teasing the hard point of her nipple. Sliding his free hand to grip her ass, he hauled her to the edge of the table and rocked against her stomach.

Ignoring his earlier order, Caroline swept her hands across his shoulders, nails digging in along his spine when the sweep of his thumb changed to a firm tug, lighting up her nerves. Even after one orgasm she was aching, the throb of her clit almost painful as the primal need that had driven her to find him turning to lust. Her underwear was soaked, her body clamoring for the hard length of him to get inside her, and any patience she’d have managed for his teasing burned up.

“Pants _off_.” She demanded roughly. “Right now.”

His fingers flexed against her ass but instead of the snarky comment she was expecting, he released her and his belt came off in pieces.

“Your own balance sheet is starting to have quite the notations, love,” Klaus rasped. The sounds of his jeans slithering down his thighs had her gaze dropping and she groaned when it became real apparent he _hadn’t_ been wearing underneath.

Sucking in a breath, Caroline glanced at him beneath her lashes. “If you don’t want me touching you, get _inside_ me. Right now.”

A rumble of sound that was more wolf-like than man, and he hauled her close for a kiss that was all tongue and teeth, the hot stroke of his tongue a mimicry of how she desperately wanted his hips to move. He lifted his head with a soft noise as his teeth tugged on her lip.

“Later, we’re going to practice patience.” Before she could recover enough to complain about that, he finally shoved her underwear to the side and pressed the blunt head of his cock against her entrance. “When we have that bed, I’m going to take you slow, until you claw me bloody.”

She tried to drag him closer with the heel of her boot but he refused to budge. “ _Klaus_.”

“Eyes on me.”

Fingers tangling tightly in the cords around his neck, she forced her eyes to lock onto his as he filled her. The press of him was slow, each glorious inch filling her perfectly. Chest heaving, lip caught tightly between her teeth, she moaned low in her throat when he stopped moving, the skin on his cheekbones drawn right. “So bloody perfect.”

“Move.”

He chuckled, hips rocking against hers. The whine that escaped her was loud, and he repeated the moment, the muscles in his jaw working. Leaning forward, he pressed his mouth near her ear. “This time I’m going to have to insist you lay back, sweetheart. I’d hate to bruise the back of your legs, no matter how fleeting.”

Shivering at the implied warning, she let him ease her back, fingers momentarily cradling her skull as she stretched out on the table. When her spine pressed against the table, she curled her thighs around his waist wanting what his body would give her, urging him closer with the heels of her boots. Klaus pressed willingly against her, mouth dragging against throat as his hand gripped a handful of her ass, rocking her hips against his. Eyes squeezing shut at the friction against her clit, Caroline groped for the edge of the table, fingers clenching down hard at the drag of his cock inside her as he slowly pulled out.

“ _God_.”

The sharp sting of teeth, the hot lave of his tongue. “Close.”

“ _Seriously_?”

A rough laugh, followed by the snap of his hips. Their mingled moans were as arousing as the unsteady breath against her throat. On the next thrust, he adjusted the angle and her moan turned ragged as he brushed her against her clit. With the firm weight of his body pressing against hers, all she could do was clench around his cock at each retreat, the return lighting up her body in all the best ways. Beneath her, the cotton of his shirt began to stick to her skin, and she shuddered as he ground their hips together, fingers likely digging bruises into her butt. She reached out with one hand, gripping smooth muscle on his back, urging him to give her more. A shiver rippled across his skin when she used her nails, and Caroline felt blood bead under her fingertips at a particularly rough thrust.

His hand snaked to her breast, pinching her nipple and rolling it in retaliation, and her heels dug in even harder. Her orgasm was building blindingly fast, head tossing on his shirt, and she felt wood give beneath her grip as her magic rose for its very own taste. “ _Klaus_.”

Another squeeze of her breast and then his hand trailed down the sweat damp skin of her stomach to search out her clit. At the same time, his teeth closed around the curve of her shoulder, blunt and bruising, and the bite of pain sent her senses reeling. Scream catching in her throat, her body locked around his, vision going white with pleasure and the sharp snap of her magic.

Klaus groaned against her, his hips losing their rhythm as he chased his own release. He released her throat as he came, face pressed against her shoulder as he shuddered through his orgasm. Slowly, the grip on his hands eased and Caroline tried to regain enough muscle control to unwind her legs.

Klaus recovered first, pressing a series of kisses to her bruised skin before lifting his head to smile at her. It was a slow, private thing that had her shivering and very aware that he was still inside her. “Come back to my hotel with me, Caroline.”

She let go of the table and brought her hand to cup his jaw, studying him. “For more sex?”

“Oh, I hope so,” he murmured. “But also so we can talk. There are a number of things I believe we still need to discuss, not the least which is exactly how Tyler’s head ended up in the river, and why. Your little friendship with Ms. Bennett. What it means, exactly, that you're my mate. I’m sure you have a number of questions.” His words were a statement, but she nodded anyway. She did. She wasn’t willing to upend her all of her plans, she would need him to bend just as much. They'd have so much to face in the morning, his family she was sure, her own conversations with Bonnie and Enzo. But the idea of trying, of making this thing work not just because magic pushed them together, but because they _wanted it to_?

Caroline wanted _that_.

Klaus brushed his thumb across her lips, eyes dark. “But more importantly, I want you with me, Caroline, and I think you want to stay with me.”

She huffed out a breath with no malice. “How is it I went from the arrogance of my father to you? A creature who is somehow even _more_ arrogant?”

He nudged her palm with his chin, cheeks creasing. “Luck, I’m sure.”

Eyes rolling, she lifted up just enough to kiss him quick and neat. “Doubtful, but I will go back with you. We do have things to discuss, and then it’s my turn to call the shots.”

An imperious arch of his brow. “Did I not just let you choose my mouth, love?”

“And _you_ can decide if you want to come in mouth or across my breasts in the shower, but it's _my_ turn.” She skimmed her fingers down the smooth plane of his chest to tweak his nipple. “I have ideas.”

Klaus’ cock hardened inside her at her words and she inhaled sharply. Turning his head, he scraped his teeth beneath her thumb. “Or we can have another round here and I’ll promise to keep my hands to myself in the car. And then after I tie you to my bed, we can negotiate the shower.”

She clenched down on reflex, Klaus making a list of just how they were going to have sex rekindling her arousal, and her fingers tangled in his necklace at the shift of his hips. Her clit was achingly sensitive. “This table isn’t exactly _comfortable_ you know.”

A glittering glance, and he slid his arm beneath her back and stood easily. A heartbeat later and he’d settled in the chair from earlier, easing her legs across the low padded arms, without disturbing his position inside her. Thighs spread wide, her breasts nearly even with his mouth, there was no hiding how much her body liked where he was taking things. Particularly when he ducked his head to take her nipple between his lips.

“I thought my next orgasm was supposed to be in a _bed_.” She struggled not to pant, arousal thick in her voice as he sat hard and thick inside her, the suction of his mouth and lash of his tongue stroking her need. Her bra dangled off her forearms, and she shrugged it to the floor, pressing her chest closer to his mouth which he took advantage of to suck even more into his mouth. Eyes sliding shut at how good he felt, she forced herself to finish her sentence. “I distinctly recall you declaring _that_.”

Klaus gave a lazy shrug and then there was a tearing sound as her panties disappeared, his fingers immediately dipping between them to roll her clit gently between his fingers. He released her breast with a soft pop. “For you? I’ll find it in me to be a little flexible.”

As he guided her hand to her breast, tongue dragging across his mouth as he watched her tease wet her nipple, she promised herself they’d test that promise.

Later, he draped her in his shirt and carried her to his car, and while he might have kept his word to keep his hands to himself, _she_ had made no such promises. By the time they reached the hotel it was a good thing she had such excellent control of her magic, because Klaus flashed them to the elevator and then to his penthouse suit, and it was only her ability to manipulate illusions that kept them from being seen. But even as Klaus settled her onto the promised bed, his hands quick to divest them of their remaining clothes, for the first time in her life her future looked brighter than she could remember. She had a father to destroy, friends to protect, and a lover who could be so much more.

Kissing his plush, arrogant mouth, Caroline let herself hope.

The Fae had no idea what was coming.


End file.
